The Sting
by The Chaotic Good
Summary: Takes place after series. Sting is a woman who masquerades as a preacher. Her past is dark and her future is uncertain. Vash is determined to help her... but at what cost will victory come? CHAPTER 6 UP! VM, WMOCNO ONE
1. The Man of No Words

**The Sting**

Summary: Vash makes a new acquaintance in the strangest of ways and finds himself tangled up with her hunt for a serial murderer.  Things start to heat up as the murders grow closer and closer together, each one linking to another, each one looping directly back to the woman who calls herself Sting.

            Hopefully a future clip: _"Vash!"  The woman's cry echoed in the vastness of the desert.  "There comes a time when you have to choose between what is right and what you love!"  The outlaw stopped dead now, his knuckles turning white as he grasped his gun.  "Make up your mind!  What's more important to you, Stampede?!  The values of a woman who died over a hundred years ago or the woman living now that you love, who's being held captive and only God knows what else by men that have been known to torture people to death?!"_

            A/N: Alright, warning: this is my first Trigun story EVER!  So please, be gentle.  I might not get the characters down properly and I know there are only about a gazillion OC stories out there but I promise this one will be different; starting with the fact that she doesn't fall in love with one of the series character!  Or at least none of them fall in love with her!  Seriously that is…

            Have fun and don't forget to READ AND REVIEW! 

**Chapter 1**: The Man of No Words

            The twin suns of Gunsmoke beat down harshly upon the back of man trekking the deserts that covered the planet's surface.  Blond hair hung loose around his face, which was sparsely covered with stubbles of a beard, his green eyes were weary and sweat trickled down his face.  The red duster he was so known for wearing had been long abandoned in desperation of cooling off and without it he looked as every man did.

            _I've got to get somewhere fast; Knives will die if I don't… I'll die if I don't! Vash thought rapidly, his grasp slightly tightening upon the platinum-haired man slung over his shoulder._

            _"Hey, needle noggin!"_

            Vash shook the voice of the late priest from his head.  No… no!  Don't think about him, don't… he's gone…

            _"Mr. Vash?  Is that you?"_

_            "Vash you idiot! Where have you been?  We've been waiting forever for you to get back!  I hope you weren't planning to just abandon us again, mister!"_

            The outlaw couldn't help but smile slightly, his eyes beginning to shine, at the thought of the insurance girls and what they'd say if he ever saw them again.

            "Meryl," he whispered, staring upward at the sky.  "I'm sorry, Meryl… I can't come back… Knives is too dangerous, I won't let him hurt anyone any more… no one… especially not you… not until I know he's okay again."

            "Hey, Mister, you like talkin' to yourself or something?"

            Vash turned quickly to spot two figures standing on a hill not far from him.

            The smaller of the two was a young boy, maybe about twelve or so, with long, untamed black hair that hung clear past his shoulders, his bangs messily displayed across his forehead and before his blue-gray eyes.  He wore a pair of brown slacks and a white shirt, with suspenders and boots, one eyebrow cocked at the outlaw with his hands upon his hips.

            The second was taller than the boy, not by much, standing shorter than any other man Vash had seen, wearing a long, black coat, which concealed any amount of muscle he might've had to make up for his lack of stature, that buttoned from the waist to the throat, where a white, preacher's collar was visible.  His hair was white, even if he couldn't have been a day past twenty, chopped short and radically thrown about his scalp, his eyes concealed behind a pair of sunglasses, and his stance ominous, looming, and commanding respect.

            "Oh wow, someone's actually out here," Vash said, scratching the back of his head and laughing softly, relieved beyond what his voice betrayed, "say, you couldn't get me to the nearest town could you?  My brother's hurt from a gunfight and I need to get him to someone who can help right away."

            "Certainly," the boy piped, grinning broadly.  "My name's Vann and this here's Sting.  We were just heading out to New Memphis; you're welcome to come with, though you might want to sit back in the bed."  (If there is such a place in the series I've never heard of it, I'm going to be making up these towns as I go along.)

            The Humanoid Typhoon nodded and followed the boy and his companion over a dune, discovering their truck on the other side.  "How'd you know I was out here?" Vash asked as he gently laid Knives back in the truck's bed and settled himself in the corner on the passenger's side.

            "Sting spotted your tracks a while back, we've been looking out for you.  What's your name?" Vann replied, rapping his fist on the top of the truck, signaling that they were ready, and then sitting down as the vehicle started off.

            "Vash."

            "Vash, like in the Stampede?  Whoa, I've heard of you!"  The boy smiled widely as he stared at the man before him in awe.  "Yeah, yeah, you're that guy that blew up all those cities and stuff… even though I don't believe a word of it.  Sting and I met these two women back in New Memphis when we were there a few weeks ago and they talked all about you."

            Vash froze.  "Really?  Women?  Well, I am quite the lady killer if you know what I mean!"  He winked brightly, covering his true feelings deep inside.  Meryl and Milly… they'd seen them, that had to be them; they were the only two women who'd ever talk about him in a good way.

            Vann laughed.  "Oh man, don't kid yourself, the short one, kind of a spitfire she was, she was on about what a 'broom-headed idiot' you were, 'harmless as a fly', but when I asked her when she'd seen you last she got really quiet and her friend, a big girl, sort of… I don't know… flakey, got really loud on about pudding and the conversation sort of died.  You rub her fur the wrong way or something?"

            The outlaw bit his lip.  "Yeah, something like that," he murmured.  "What's your story, kid?"

            The boy laughed.  "Momma and daddy got in bed, didn't want me, threw me in the orphanage, I raised some hell in town, got into some trouble with Sting, and here I am."

            "What about Sting?"

            "Not sure, don't know much about him except he's got a lot of secrets and none he's willing to share," Vann replied.  "He don't talk much to me and he's the man of no words around strangers.  He's friend enough, buys me food, let's me have the bed when we stop at hotels.  He likes to keep to himself I guess."

            The Plant watched the boy for some time, how he tipped his head back and soaked in the suns' rays, smiling to himself, and humming some made up tune quietly.  This kid was hiding something about his friend.

            The trip from there on in was silent, Vash checking on Knives every now and then to make sure he was still steady; he was.  Sting made the gunman weary, he had an air of some mystery about him, his habit of not talking left everyone sort of in the dark, and the sheer fact that he seemed very… dangerous… amplified everything.

            "We should be getting into the city any minute, last me and Sting checked it was only about a few hour's ride from where we picked you up," Vann said just as the twin suns set and the moons rose.

            "I really appreciate it you two."

            Vann waved a hand.  "Think nothing of it, me and Sting will help however we can."

            Sting did nothing to add to this sentiment and continued driving on.

                                                *                      *                      *

            "Dr. Groves probably ain't awake at this hour," Vann began as he leapt out of the bed of the truck, Vash soon following with Knives slung over his shoulders, the buildings of New Memphis looming lit up around them.  "But he'll get out of that bed of his for a few coins and an ill man.  He usually does everything, no questions asked, as long as he gets his payment.  I'd try to keep low, people 'round here are anxious, they like money and lots of it and you, to them, would be one big piece of gold."

            "Thanks, hey, uh, you wouldn't know any good hotels around here would you?" Vash asked, watching as Sting hauled a duffle from the cab of the truck and sling it over his shoulder.

            "Not any good ones but me an' Sting are gonna be taking a room at that place," the boy replied, pointing to the building they'd parked in front of, which was dimly lit with uproarious laughter spilling from it.  "Not the cleanest dump but it works, maybe we'll talk before me and Sting get to moving again.  See you, Vash!"

            The outlaw watched as the boy raced off.

            Sting, however, turned to face the outlaw, the first time that the man had actually bothered to acknowledge anything anyone said.  He stood there for a second, motionless, before nearing again offering an arm to take Knives with.  "I'll get you a room and watch him until you come back with the doctor," he spoke softly in a muffled voice.

            Unsure if the preacher could hold his brother's weight the Plant hesitated.  "He's pretty heavy."

            "Ah, don't worry, Sting's pretty strong, he can handle it," Vann called from the porch of the small hotel grinning wryly as he barely managed to lift the duffle bag, which he had pulled from the trunk but seconds before.

            Vash paused a second.  "Okay," he muttered, slipping Knives' deadweight frame from his own shoulder onto Sting's, who shifted uneasily for a second and then straightened, starting off again.

            _I'll be seeing them again soon, he thought, _I can feel it.  That Sting… there's something different about him.__

            "Mr. Vash?"

            That was the voice.

            That pierced the ears.

            And broke the heart.

            Of the outlaw named Vash.

            "I-insurance girls?" he said it before he even turned to look at them but as he did 'lo he was right.

            Both stood there, looking as they had when he had left them, both with wide eyes, staring in slight disbelief.

            "Oh, Meryl, it is him!  I told you it was!"

            The shorter of the two was still stunned, even after her partner ran to Vash, hugging him tightly, proving that he was tangible, that he wasn't a ghost.

            _It can't be him, Meryl thought rapidly.  __But it is!  He's alive, I don't believe it… he made it out alive!  He's here… he came back!_

            But any rejoice she was feeling was quickly washed away as anger emerged.  "Vash, you jerk!" she shrieked.  "You had us worrying sick about you for over a month!  You inconsiderate asshole!  I can't believe you!"

            Ah, music to his ears.  Meryl's screeching never sounded more beautiful.  "Good to see you too… Meryl."

            It made the woman stop her ranting and just stare, their eyes locking and time stopping for a second.  He'd never said he name before.  It was then she let the barrier around herself collapse and she found herself in his arms, hers wrapped around his waist, her face buried in his chest.  "I missed you, Vash," she whispered, "even if you are an idiot broom-head."

            _This is how it should always be, he thought.  __But it can't… when Knives wakes up he isn't going to be happy and he can't know what I feel for Meryl or she'll be endangered.  Maybe someday Knives will be well and I can love her like I've wanted to._

            Milly coughed and the two leapt away from one another, blushing crimson.  The taller girl smiled brightly.  "Since Mr. Vash is back we won't have to return to the office again, you should tell the boss that, Meryl."

            Meryl nodded.  "Yeah, I'll get to it in the morning.  But first… I want to know what happened with Vash.  Is he… you know… dead?"

            The outlaw didn't meet her gaze.  "No," he whispered.  "He's alive.  I was going to get a doctor for him before you two showed up."

            They although shocked and a little scared that he'd brought that killer with him, alive nonetheless, didn't say anything and silence fell between them.

                                                *                      *                      *

            Vann watched Sting from where he sat on the bed.  The man stood in the window, looking out it thoughtfully, arms crossed, sunglasses missing, revealing what was hidden.  Scars danced circles around his left eye, which was staring sightlessly into the darkness of the streets below.  "You can't keep up _this_ disguise the entire time we're here."

            "I like _this disguise, no one suspects the skinny looking man of God."_

            "Someone's bound to find out or notice or something."

            Sting shrugged.

            Vann shifted uncomfortably.  "This is dangerous."

            "I warned you about that coming into the business, kid."

            "I know."

            Silence fell between them.

            Sting looked to the floor.  "Vann… I told you it was dangerous… I also told you that there'd come a time when I'd have to leave you behind, where it'd get _too_ dangerous."

            "I know, Sting.  What if they find out?"

            "Find out what?"

            "You know."

            "No, Vann… I don't know… there are a lot of bad things people can find out about me that'll throw us both into peril."  
            "I mean… Sting… what if they find out you're a woman?  There are people crawling this place looking for you and there are, needless to say, few women with your looks."

            Sting looked away.  "Get some food, Vann and bring it up… I'm gonna take a shower."

            Vann nodded and watched his companion turn toward the bathroom door, stripping away the black coat, revealing a white shirt that clung to smooth curves and a chest flattened from deliberate exercise.  Their plan had been to get her around dressed as a man, a preacher nonetheless, but if anyone found out their secret was blown.

            _But if we fooled Vash the Stampede how hard can a bunch of mercenaries be hard to fool? Vann thought as he started downstairs, stopping at a door half-way down the hall.  That unconscious, bullet-filled, blond man lay on the other side of that door.  __I really wonder what that story's really all about._


	2. The Woman of Two Faces

**Chapter 2**: The Woman of Two Faces

            Disclaimer: Dude, I so forgot this last time, so I'm doing it now.  I in no way, shape, or form own Trigun, I do not make a profit off of writing these fictions and I probably never will.  This is gonna apply from every chapter before and here on in.

            Chap. Summary: Sting proves to be a lot more trouble than what was first thought.

            Steam fumed from behind the shower curtains as the woman concealed behind them furiously scrubbed at her hair, attempting to clean it of all impurities (mostly sand… she hated sand… good Lord, what a planet to live on).

            _Vash the Stampede, she thought to herself as she stood beneath the shower head, letting the water run down her body until all traces of suds had disappeared.  _I'd really like to see the outcome of that battle if those mercenaries are dumb enough to go after him._  She grinned outwardly.  _He was really something though, not half-bad looking either.__

            The bedroom door opened and slammed shut again and Sting smiled.  "Ah, food," she spoke aloud, turning off the water and stepping out, toweling herself dry and removing a towel from the peg nearby, tying it around her body.

            Vann was sniffing at the food and poking it experimentally with a fork when she walked in.  "It's edible," he announced with some brief look of disgust.  "Somehow."

            Sting smiled and sat down beside him.  "It's better than nothing; we haven't had the money to eat in the last few days here, Mr. I-can-pick-any-pocket."

            "Hey, we haven't exactly been around anyone _to_ pickpocket," the boy protested.

            "Where'd you get the money for this?"

            Vann took a bite.  "Iyf goft ift ov ova-"

            The woman whacked his shoulders.  "Be intelligible!"

            He swallowed.  "I got it off of a big brute who was so drunk he wouldn't recognize his own mother."

            "You sure you weren't seen?"

            There was a knock at the door and both turned at it.  "You answer it, I'm gonna go get some clothes on," she whispered, tip-toeing toward the bathroom and slipping in.

            Swallowing Vann pulled open the door and smiled in relief.  "Hey, Vash," he chimed, loud enough, he knew, for Sting to hear.

            Sting, behind the door, sighed a breath of relief.  If it was just that twit…

            "Hey, kid, where's Sting?  I was going to thank him for getting that room and watching Knives for me."

            "He's, uh, in the bathroom… er… getting dressed," Vann replied.  _Smooth, man, real smooth, why don't you stutter just a little bit more?_  He needed to get off the topic, and quick before he slipped something he shouldn't.  "Did you get the doc?"

            Vash smiled.  "Yeah, he's here now."

            Sting was buttoning up her coat when she stepped out from the bathroom and straightened her back immediately she noticed Vash watching her.  She kept her façade stoic, as the Sting he knew would.  She arched a brow, asking him the silent question she already knew from listening in: _what are you doing here?_

            "I was just dropping by to say thanks for watching Knives," the outlaw said softly.  "I really appreciate all you've done."

            The woman smiled inwardly.  Oh he was a sweetheart.  There was no way that the man before her was the bloodthirsty killer everyone spoke about.  She nodded in a stiff fashion, accepting his gratitude.  But to avoid any unnecessary questioning of her reasons for being in New Memphis again for the second time in the span of a few weeks she decided it best to make her quick escape.  Carefully she sniffed at the air and made a slightly disgusted face.  "Vann," she spoke in her gruff, gravelly tone, which she decided was as near to any sort of man's voice as she could get, "you reek like the dead, go take a shower."

            The boy snorted indignantly.  "Since when have I had time to shower?"

            Sting rolled her eyes as the boy stomped off.

            "Never noticed those."

            She looked to Vash with a raised eyebrow.  "Noticed what?"

            The outlaw pointed to his eye.  "Didn't know you were blind in one side either, you seemed to do alright."

            "I'm not helpless," she muttered back, scowling, lifting her hand to brush over the marks.

            "When'd you get them?"

            Sting shrugged.  "A year or so ago, a fist fight.  The S.O.B. clocked me good right across the face with some pipe.  Bashed in my eye, haven't been able to see out of the damn thing since.  I mean… there are shadows but, nothing worth looking at."

            "How'd you get yourself in that mess?  I thought men like you weren't supposed to promote violence."

            "Wasn't always a preacher, Typhoon," the faux preacher replied, raking a hand nervously through her hair.  "I was just on my way out to do some business.  Perhaps we'll meet again."

            "Yeah, maybe."

                                                *                      *                      *

            Vann grunted as he jumped up with a start.  A scream had resonated from across the street and into his open window.

            "Sting!" he shouted, looking around for the woman, but her bed was made and there was no sign of her.  He leapt up and checked the far corner near the bathroom.  Her boots and coat were gone, her clothes missing from their duffle.  He thumbed the rough cotton of her preacher's outfit.  She'd gone out in her own identity.  "Damn it."

            _She's gonna get her ass caught!  The boy pulled off his nightclothes and hurriedly pulled on his trousers, moving for his shirt when a tapping on the window stopped him._

            Sting was crouching in the window, looking perturbed as she tapped again anxiously.  Realizing what he was seeing and coming from his comatose, Vann bounded for the window, unlatching it and stepping back as she slipped in with a flourish of agility.  He had almost forgotten what she looked like dressed properly.  Her hair was neatly brushed, the long black coat replaced by a deep brown duster with a white, collared shirt, black slacks, and knee-high boots.  A thin sheet of sweat covered her skin and she hurriedly stripped herself free of the coat and boots, collapsing onto the bed.

            Vann took a cautious step toward her frame.  "Sting?" he whispered softly, reaching out to gently touch her shoulder.

            She cracked one gray-green eye open at him.  "Yeah?"

            "What'd you do?"

            The eye closed and she sat up mechanically on her knees, resting back on her calves.  She held an inviting arm out to him and he stepped near, allowing her to pull him into a tight hug.  He wasn't usually one for mushy stuff, having raised himself up on the streets with no parents to love him… but for Sting he'd make that exception.  He let himself be folded into her arms, let her fingers trail gently through his mussed black hair.

            "There's one less man to harm innocents," she whispered solemnly.

            The boy stiffened in her arms at the words.  That's why she was like this.  It should've been clear to him the second he saw her acting awkwardly.

            Vann had never been fully informed on her cause or her means or motive but he knew that Sting was wanted.  By who?  Not sure.  For reward?  Maybe.  Was she an outlaw?  Hard to tell.  She had explained in brief her past as a simple saloonkeeper's daughter who was mending the mistakes she'd made as a naïve adolescent.  He knew she killed men at seemingly random.  They were quiet, quick deaths to each.  Why?  Again he wasn't sure, the only answer he ever got out of her was that she was that 'more innocents were safe this way'.  His only safe assumption could be that whoever or whatever it was she was trying to destroy by killing these few, random people had to justify the ends.

            "What'd he do?"

            Sting gently pulled his hair through her fingers, closing her eyes as she rested her chin atop his head.  "He took unwilling women to his bed, killed men for cheating him out of a few double-dollars, he was sick, deranged, and wasn't about to turn around.  If I had not gone after him… he'd have come after me."

            Vann nodded.  "Did anyone see you?"

            "I'm not-"

            There was a gunshot from outside and the window of their room shattered.  Without a second's hesitation the woman shoved her ward away from her onto the other side of the bed and crept cat-like toward the window, crouching beside it and gazing out through a shard of glass that remained in its frame.

            The door to their room flew open and both occupants looked to it.  The sight of red tipped them both off before they registered his face.

            "Stampede, get down!" Sting growled, lunging at his knees, which buckled under him as she ran full-force into them, another gunshot and bullet embedding itself into the wall directly across from the window followed a half-moment later.

            Wide green eyes stared up into the two that gazed back at him, sweeping briefly over the lean, curved figure.  For being as flat as she was in the chest she was still noticeably a woman.  "You're… you're a… a-"

            "A woman you stuttering idiot," Sting snapped back, "d'you think we could discuss this _later though?!"_

            The outlaw shook his head and regained his composure, looking to the window and then back to the woman before him.  "Obviously one of your secrets?"

            Her eyes narrowed at him.  "You have _no idea," she whispered softly.  "I can't explain now, all I can tell you is these men are… let's say… _friends_ of the guy who got killed this morning."_

            "You know anything about that?"

            Sting gave a short, nervous chuckle.  "Anyone who heard that woman screaming knows about it."  She glanced to Vann, who was frozen on the bed and nodded toward the window.

            The boy nodded and crawled toward it, peeking out much the same way his companion had.  "Alright," he murmured.  "The shooter's on the rooftop of the building across from us, there's three on the streets and… oh shit… two are coming into the building."

            Vash glanced at Sting.  "What are they after?"

            "Me," the woman whispered softly.  "Vann, go out the window in the bathroom and get rid of the sniper."

            "Aye, aye!"  The boy saluted and scurried to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

            "You're sending him out there?!" the Humanoid Typhoon asked incredulously, "he's just a kid!"

            "A kid who knows how to handle himself," Sting bit back.  "Look, Typhoon, I helped you out by bringing you here, I didn't have to, so help me out by getting rid of these guys with me."

            Vash narrowed his eyes.  "We're not killing any of them."

            Sting looked away.  "I'm not promising you a thing."

            The outlaw was silent for a second before he nodded.  "Let's get down to my room before they get upstairs.  My brother's gun is in there, you can use that."

            Without a second's thought Sting nodded and followed him as he booked it out the door and down the hall, slipping into the room there, her not far off his heels.

            She jumped at the sight that greeted; the man who had been so thoroughly wounded and unconscious was sitting up in bed, clutching a black revolver in one hand, glaring murderously at the floor.  She'd been sure he'd be out for another few weeks or something, he had been long gone from consciousness. 

            "Knives!" Vash yelped out in surprise, moving to his brother, who stopped him with a glare.

            "Where are we?" the man whispered softly, his voice gravelly from no use.

            "New Memphis, in a hotel, we're in trouble."

            "So I've heard.  I watched you practically fly out of the room in response."  Cold, icy blue eyes turned on Sting, who was frozen in place.  _Another spider, brother?  Is that really necessary?_

             _Don't be like that, Knives._

            The woman made an audible squeak as the black revolver raised level with her head and the man's finger threateningly tightened on the trigger.  Before she could even register her action she threw herself into a handspring away, landing in a defensive crouch.  Blue eyes were already trained on her before she landed and the placid face twisted into a wry smile.  "For a spider you're fast."

            If it impressed him it was impossible to tell.  But it impressed Vash, who was giving her an incredulous look.

            She shrugged uncomfortably.  "I'm decently strong but I'm not physically able to fight hand-to-hand and I can admit that my aim with a gun is probably the worst on Gunsmoke… all I have is speed and agility."

"And Vann?"

            Sting laughed.  "How else do you think I expected him to take out that sniper?  He's a thief by nature; this sort of thing comes natural to him… I almost pity the man he's probably standing over about now.  Look, Vash, you better be the gunmen every moron makes you out to be because these guys we're up against don't believe in playing fair… but I suppose it's a good thing they don't have automatics this time around."

            "That's fortunate because neither does-"

            The doorknob came off with the loud crack of a fired weapon, the bullet whizzing through into the floor, and Sting yelped, running to the window and heaving it open, looking out into the alley between the building and the one next to it.

            _Go with her, Vash ordered, glancing to his brother._

            _Why should I?_

_            Knives!_

_            Fine!_  The Plant narrowed his eyes at his brother.  _But I'm not promising you anything._

            He grumbled as he slid partially out the window, looking up in time to watch the woman shimmy her way up, her left hand and foot placed on the wall of their building and her right hand and foot on the wall of the other structure.  "C'mon, stupidhead!" she shouted, glancing down at him as her fingertips curled over the roof's edge.  Heaving to the left she brought her right hand to quickly grasp the same edge and from there pulled herself up, glancing expectantly over the edge.

            Knives cursed under his breath.  Why did his idiot brother have to like, of all things, _spiders_?  And why did he always seem to like the exceptionally irritating ones?  He sighed.  But he'd tolerate it.  For a little while.  Vash had, for some unknown reason, dragged his unconscious form in the desert for quite a while the least he could do, Knives figured, was tolerate his brother's love for the vile species.

            With his ribs aching the Plant managed to hoist himself up over the edge with just a touch less agility than he would normally and spotted the woman crouching low behind a chimney as bullets rained over her head.  The attackers either, one, didn't notice him or two, did and didn't care.

"You're one of the least fascinating people I know," Knives said, crouching to sit behind Sting.  (DC: Sorry if Knives is acting a little _too nice, I know he's totally whacked out OOC but I intend to fix that, I promise!  Bear with me for now!)  "So why are they after you?"_

            She laughed.  "Least fascinating, huh?" she asked, watching as he checked the barrel and cussed softly.  "Probably 'cause you don't know me.  How many shots you got?"  
            "Six, but no extras."  (DC: They have six shots right?  Or am I delusional?)

            The woman sighed.  "How good are you?"

            He gave her an arrogant smirk and stood up, having listened carefully for a cease in fire and as he shifted around to the edge of the roof that faced the street he looked over spotting them all reloading.

            Again he smirked.

            The spiders looked frightened as their first comrade went down, which made it all the more fun to gun down them as well.  Of course… for Vash's sake… he didn't kill them though he knew by the look of things that the woman desperately wanted to.

            Sting watched him and a shiver flew up her spine.  Okay, she could definitely admit that this guy was sexy with that smirk, no matter how arrogant it was, but it was creepy.  He seemed to enjoy shooting those men… not that she didn't know what they were all very well responsible for.

            "Spider, it's safe now, you can quit cowering."

            Her eye twitched as she stood and dusted herself off.  "Spider," she drawled softly, mulling it around in her head.  It was supposed to be some sort of insult by the way he practically spat the word.  She smirked.  "I like it."

            He snorted.  "It'd figure."

            Sting rolled her eyes and walked to the edge of the building, lowering herself onto the porch roof and then jumping to the ground, landing in a crouch.  She spared the blond man watching her from the roof a half-glance before approaching the three shooters.

            Blood seeped from wounds on either their shoulders or legs, they were all precise, inches away from hitting something important and vital to living, like he wanted to kill them but for some reason decided against it.  The chivalry of the action didn't overshadow the gloom of his first intentions.

            Two of the three scooted away from her but the other lay there bleeding, staring up at her with wide eyes, his leg lamed with a wound to the top of it.  "Should've told him to finish you," she snarled softly.

            "You-you haven't won."

            Sting crouched low to him, grabbing his shirt front in her fist.  "But I haven't lost, and somewhere along the line, your employer _will_ make a mistake, and I am going to have his ass pinned to the wall when he does.  If you ever see daylight again when I'm through with you tell him that."

            The man's eyes twitched rapidly in fear.  "You-you're the one that k-killed my brother, t-this morning."

            A frightening smirk crawled over her features.  "You and your brother were in the _wrong_ business.  He just got his and you got lucky.  Your brother's taught a valuable lesson though… _don't_ cross me and _don't work for the man I'm hunting."_

            There was silence for a moment and then one of the others started to laugh.  Gray-green eyes turned on him.  Their owner stood and threw down the other man as she started to approach his companion.  Even as she stood over him idiot two continued to laugh. 

            "You are not hunting our employer," he whispered through a wide grin, "he is hunting you.  Stop walking into his traps and taking his bait and get away, girly, or he's gonna get you."

            A growl rose in Sting's throat and had she the chance she probably would've finished him on her own but a shout interrupted that.

            "Sting!"

            Vann's arms were latched about her waist in a second and as Sting looked toward the hotel Vash came out of the doors, dragging two unconscious men behind him.  "You two okay?" he inquired, brows knitting together.

The woman looked at the boy before her and tilted his face up toward hers.  He had a cut across his forehead above his eye and another slashed over his cheek but he appeared no worse for wear.  "We're fine," she replied, waving to him.  "You?"

            Vash laughed.  "All's well, where's Knives?"

            "Here."

            With a small 'thud' and a few dust clouds the Plant landed in a crouch from his jump, rising to his feet again.  His side throbbed but he prohibited himself from clutching it.

            "And I'd assume everyone cleared the area when these idiots started firing shots," Sting said, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and wiping the blood from the wounds on Vann's face, who was muttering something about not wanting to be fussed over.  "We should make sure-"

            "Vash!  What'd you do now?!"

            The blond man winced and looked down the street to watch Meryl and Milly approach, the shorter of the two with her arms crossed looking very ticked.

            "It was her!" the outlaw replied quickly, pointing to Sting.

            The woman glared at him.  "Typhoon!" she hissed, glaring.

            "The insurance girl won't beat you up!"

            "I didn't do any of this though!"

            "But you're the cause of this, spider," Knives put in.

            Sting gave him an annoyed look.  "I didn't ask for your input, Blondie."

              
 DC: Yeah, I'm very aware of Knives' OOCness but like I said, bear with me, I'm trying to fix it (besides, I like to imagine he's not really all that bad… I'm dreaming I know but yeah…) You've read now REVIEW!  Please, it's the only way I get motivation to write more!  (Oh, and I'd like an opinion on Sting, is she Mary-sue, Original, or is it too soon to really tell?) 


	3. The Outlaws Make a Deal

**Chapter 3**: The Outlaws Make a Deal

_CG: Alright, Note: I've been signing these as DC because those are the initials of my FP.net account.  Just in case you were wondering.  Anyways.  An absolutely HUGE thanks to those who have reviewed!  It's so appreciated.  I love you guys.  Remember, if you're confused about anything ask me and I'll try my best to answer.  I appreciate e-mails as well._

_Chap. Summary: Sting makes dinner awkward, Meryl and Vash (I didn't mention that this will most likely be a V/M thing did I?) have a conversation, and Sting proves that she does care about some things more than others._

            *

            _(Note: I will probably never tell you at what time things occur so you'll have to look for clues on your own, I promise to make it as least confusing as possible and if it's a couple days that are skipped I will note that) _

            As a team, as awkwardly matched as they were, Sting and Vann were quite the act.  Between the two's lying skills they managed to weave a long, intricate, tearjerker of a story that reasoned everything that had happened and what Sting had done perfectly.  She was the widowed mother of Vann, young and lost, driven by rage into murdering her husband, who had beaten her and her little boy mirthfully, and whose gang had subsequently felt the need to justify.  Where Sting made an effort at keeping her faked half-tears in, Vann curled at her feet and made a show of crying as loudly and pathetically as he could.  The sight was really quite touching to those who weren't aware of the truth.

            Sting collapsed into laughter as she and Vann stepped into the backroom of the saloon, where the others were sitting to wait.  There was a free dinner in it for each of them for helping the 'poor, defenseless' family and these two seemed to enjoy it immensely as Vann threw himself into a chair beside Milly, who smiled brightly at him, and Sting continued to stand, looking over the table, one hand behind her back.

            "Again, thanks to Vash for helping out this morning, Vann and I would be dead without you and, even if he's going to ignore me, thanks to Knives for playing 'hero'," she said, removing her hand from behind her and placing what was in it, a relatively large box, on the table and then sliding it across to Vash.

            "Donuts!"

            The insurance girls smiled at him, same old Vash, as the wandering pair laughed.  "A little birdie told us you liked 'em," Vann explained, "we thought we'd repay the favor."

            The outlaw smiled through a mouthful.  "You guys are great!"

            "After this we should get going," Sting said quietly.  "Vann and I have… more to do."

            "What is it you two _do_ exactly?" Meryl asked.  This woman was quite strange, not that the insurance girl wasn't used to the occasional circus sideshow, what with having been with Vash for so long already, but Sting was different.

            Vann looked to his caretaker's face, which turned away to the table and he frowned.  "We, uh… we do a lot of… stuff.  It's kind of hard to explain."

            "Do you mind telling us?" the spitfire of a woman persisted.  "If we're going to have another natural disaster like Vash running around we should let our company know."

            "If more people get involved more people are going to be hurt," Sting said lowly and all eyes were focused on her.

            _She's very strange, even for a spider, Knives' voice whispered in Vash's head, who nodded just slightly._

            _She is, the Typhoon agreed.  _If more people get involved the more people are going to get hurt… what does that mean?  She's afraid of something… or someone… I can sense it from her.__

            If Knives was going to reply, it wasn't any time soon as he severed his connection with his brother and the two remained in silence.

            "What are you talking about?" Meryl asked.

            "I think I made it clear.  This 'business' that I'm in… no one else can get involved.  If you tell your company about me… things will change for the worse," Sting continued on softly.  "The man I'm hunting is my own personal natural disaster… one I created and one I plan to take out and it doesn't matter how many men have to go down before he does… they're the fools who decided to waste everything and work under him."

            It was then Vash intervened, eyes narrowing.  "You can't-"

            "I highly suggest against what you're about to say," Sting cut him off, voice soft.  "I don't want someone telling me that what I'm doing is wrong.  I've second-guessed my decisions enough alone, I don't need someone else doing the same."  Her tone signaled that the discussion was over, as did her picking up her fork and starting in on her dinner.

                                                *                      *                      *

            Meryl sat in her room on the bed, staring upward at the ceiling, hand thrown haphazardly over her forehead, stripped to her skirt and blouse.

            _As if having to watch Vash wasn't bad enough there's now Knives and Sting around, whoever she is, the woman thought, sighing and closing her eyes.  __She can't be all that bad though, the way she was fussing over that kid earlier was almost mother-like.  But those men he's killed… I wonder if they really did all the things she said or if that was just to cover her own hide?_

            "Meryl?"

            She sat up quickly to find Vash standing in the doorway, looking awkward there.  "Yes?"

            He shifted uncomfortably and then stepped in.  The woman shifted, pulling her legs up underneath her and motioning for him to sit, which he did.  The bed heaved under his added weight.  "I feel like I should explain why I was gone so long," he whispered.

            Meryl shrugged.  "Not if you don't want to."

            The outlaw sighed.  "Meryl, Knives isn't safe, I didn't want him to endanger anyone else anymore… we've lost too many to him already.  I wanted to make sure that he couldn't put innocents in danger… especially you."  He was staring at her with such earnest in his aqua-blue eyes.

            The insurance girl stared at him, butterflies fluttering about her stomach.  "Vash… you didn't need to worry about that, I can take care of myself!" she protested.

            "Not against Knives," Vash replied.  "I couldn't stand to see you hurt… promise you won't do anything stupid when it comes to him."

            Meryl would've argued his use of the word 'stupid' but bit her tongue as she felt his hand wrap tenderly around both of her own.  "Vash, I-" 

            "Promise me."

            She looked down at his hand clutching hers and nodded slowly.  "Alright, Vash."

            Sting sat with her back pressed against the support beam of the hotel's porch, a cigarette held between her fingers, burning idly.  She tilted her head back, staring upwards blankly, half-conscious of everything around her.

            **Flashback**

            _"You can't do this, Mason!"_

_            "I thought this was what we're supposed to be doing!"_

_            "We do not kill innocent men!"_

_            "What about that guy the other day?  He seemed pretty innocent to me."_

_            "That was personal."_

_            "Well so was this!"_

_            "He was our friend, Mason!"_

_            "Not mine!"_

            **Fin. Flashback**

            Sting sighed and rubbed her temples in frustration.

            "Sting?"

            She looked up to spot Vann standing above her, a worried look crossing his young face.  Inwardly she smiled.  He'd be beating girls off with a stick when he was older… though chances were driving toward the fact that she would not witness this.  Her time was drawing near to a close, she could feel it in her bones, in her mind and heart and soul…

            "Whatcha need, kid?" she asked, watching as he sat down beside her and taking a long drag from her cigarette and then tilting her head back again to blow the smoke upward into the air.

            "Are we staying?" he whispered.

            Sting looked down at her boots for a second before straightening, swinging her legs out in front of her to be parallel with his own.  "It wouldn't be safe for them," she began, "if we did."

            Vann bit his lip.  "But what about if we don't… those guys will come after them because he'll think they know something!"

            "_He isn't going to find out about anything, there's no way he can, and we took care of those morons."_

            "But I was thinking… what if there was more that we don't know about?  What if there were like ten of them?  What if this entire town in crawling with those creeps and Vash and his brother and the insurance girls are in trouble?  We'd of done exactly what we're aiming not to… we're not protecting them if we leave, Sting."

            The woman shook her head.  "We're not protecting them if we stay.  It is a tangled web you and I weave in this fabric of life… and those who get caught up in it are only the unfortunate flies."  She looked at him earnestly and took his chin into her hand, turning his eyes to meet hers.  "I cannot change what has come to pass though I wish upon wish that I could… I can only change what might be as much as Fate will allow me to.  I don't like it any more than you do but we endanger those four more if we stick around than we do if we leave.  I have the distinct feeling that the Typhoon and his brother are perfectly capable of surviving this through and I don't think the great Stampede would let anything happen to those insurance girls."

            "But what if something does?"

            Sting looked away, not ready to answer.  "Why don't you go to bed or something?  I need time to think." 

            Vann swallowed hard and nodded, rising to his feet and walking away.

            The woman took another long drag from her cigarette.  "Vann wants to stay," she stated to the air, smoke pouring from her lips at her ever word, "we _need_ to go, the wolf is at our heels, and I think my timeline's gonna be snipped… what's it sound like to you, Stampede?"  
            "It sounds like you're in a heap of trouble," the blond man said as he leaned against the doorframe of the building behind her.  "And it sounds like you could use some help."

            "Heap of trouble, yes, help, no, I haven't accepted help from anyone my entire life," Sting protested, "and I don't plan to start now."

            "There's a first time for everything."

            The cigarette was dropped to the ground as the faux preacher rose to her feet and turned on Vash, eyeing him.  "I can't accept your help, Stampede," she whispered, "my morals, my conscience, and my logical mind will not allow me to do so.  It will only serve to further endanger you, your brother, Meryl, and Milly."

            Vash looked down at her.  "If you think I'm going to let you do this, whatever it is, on your own you're insane.  I can't just watch you nearly get killed." 

            "_Then don't watch," Sting hissed, moving as if to walk pass him._

            The outlaw grabbed a hold of her shoulder, stopping her immediately.  "Who's after you?" he asked.

            For a moment the woman stared at the wooden planking at her feet.  "Someone I spited some years ago and he's never forgotten," she murmured, "it started off simple and it got more and more complicated as we fell further in.  It turned into a game and I don't think either of us knows who exactly the hunter and hunted are… because it changes.  The rules are not solid in this game we play, they are ever-changing… except one, which is… the players cannot stop playing or they forfeit their life.  I've never taken help but I felt like that would be asking someone to put their life on the line for me and I may or may not be right in this but my hunch is that those girls, one of them in particular, are very special to you and that your brother, though he is an asshole, is of no less importance.  Stampede, do not risk what you might not gain back again.  Please… _think_ before you act.  I won't stop you from helping me but if anything happens to any of you… I'll live with that regret."

            For a moment aqua eyes remained sedate and unreadable as they bore into her.

            Sting realized in that moment of silent deliberation in which he fought a war of conscience and logical mind that this man, this Humanoid Typhoon, was more than what the stories credited him to be… much more.

            A small smile appeared on his features and he offered her a hand, as if to shake.  "I wouldn't be much of a person if I let you do this by yourself," he said softly.

            Sting smirked.  "You're not being much of an outlaw by offering to help."  She looked down hesitantly at his offered hand and took it in her own.  "But I've never believed you to be much of one and I don't think I'll start now."

                                                *                      *                      *

            "Sting, I can't sleep."

            The woman, who was sitting at the desk in the corner of their hotel room writing up something, turned to find the boy staring at her.  "Vann, I know you, you've probably been sitting there staring at the ceiling.  You can't sleep unless you close your eyes."

            The boy rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling.  "What's going to happen to us, Sting?"

            The woman sighed and stood up, walking to sit down beside him on the bed.  "I'm not sure, Vann."

            "Can you tell me something?"

            "Depends what you want me to tell you."

            Vann shifted uncomfortably.  "If you leave me… will you ever come back?"

            Sting frowned a little.  "Who says I'd leave you?"

            "Sting, I'm young, not stupid, I know that whatever it is you're mucked up in is gonna make it so you gotta leave me!"  He had not met her gaze and was instead staring intensely at the blankets of his bed.  Sting watched as two, small wet spots appeared and she realized he was crying.  "So… when you do… will you ever come back?"

            The woman sighed and reached forward to hug him gently, placing her chin atop his head.  "Someone will very well have to chain me up and drag me off to make me leave you, Vann… and if I do… yeah… I'll come back."

            She felt more tears wet her shoulder and pulled away, lifting calloused hands to wipe away the flecks of salty water.  "Now, now, c'mon, none of that," she whispered, "you're supposed to be this badass street urchin who doesn't cry for nothin'.  What happened to the boy that I met all those long months ago."

            He half-smiled at her, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his nightshirt.  "The same thing that happened to that badass gunwoman who didn't talk to nobody for nothin'."

            "Yeah, I guess we kind of ruined our images for each other, huh?" Sting joked.  She lifted a hand and ruffled his hair.  "Try to sleep."

            He nodded and laid back as she stood up and moved over to the desk, turning off the gas lamp and walking to her own bed.

            Every muscle in her body sighed in relief as she laid down, not even bothering to change her clothes.

A/N: SOOOOO sorry that I haven't been updating!  I just didn't feel like I was getting enough reviews and then my motivation died… but I'm back… for as long as I'm this kick.  YOU'VE READ SO NOW REVIEW!!!            
 


	4. A Friend of the Past

**Chapter 4**: 

A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys, though I didn't get as many as I would like to have gotten, but I suppose quality is better than quantity.  Lol anyways I'll try to get as much writing in as I can but I write stuff a lot for my friends and they come before my FF.net account, sorry!  But you as my loyal fans mean the world to me so don't be offended, okay?  HEY IT'S A NEW CHAP GO READ!

 Chap. Summary: An old friend from Sting's past shows up and trouble starts up as Vann does something much unexpected.

                                                *                      *                      *

            Vann scrunched his nose a little as a droplet of water splattered on his face.  Though he was only half-conscious he could register the rhythmic dripping.

            Opening one eye he found his white-haired, green-gray eyed companion standing over him with a water pitcher tipped just enough so the drips fell onto him.

            "Sting?" he muttered.

            "Oh, good, you're awake," she said, her usually grave face brightening into a smile.  "We're moving out later tonight, be ready, but now breakfast.  Get up, get showered, and get dressed."

            "Why should I?" Vann grunted.

            Sting lifted the basin high.  "If you do not, I will assist in it now."  With that she emptied the contents of the pitcher onto him and was gone with a flick of her brown coat, leaving him to scream out angrily at her all the curses under the sun. 

            "E-excuse me, miss?"

            The voice made Sting turn around and Milly and Meryl, who sat immediately across from her, to look up, all three spotting a shaking young man standing there, eyes nervous and hands trembling as he clutched at a pale envelop.

            "Yes?" Sting asked, lifting a delicate eyebrow.

            "T-this is for you, I-I think." 

            The woman blinked once and a flash of unease fell across her eyes.  "You think?  You're not sure?" she questioned.

            "I-I was t-told to give this to a w-w-woman with white hair."

            Sting glanced at the two insurance girls sharing her table and they both shrugged.  "Well, that'd be me."  Quickly she plucked the paper from his hands and waved him off.  "Very strange."

            "Why?" Milly asked.

            The preacher raised an eyebrow at the taller girl, who was smiling brightly.  She glanced to the woman's partner, who shrugged helplessly.  "Well, ever since I was a young girl I've been traveling around, I've never really stayed in one spot… I question why I would be getting a letter when no one should be aware of where I'm at.  I've only been here for a few days."

            "Well open it," Meryl prompted quickly.  "It can't hurt."

            Sting frowned a bit and tore at the envelope's top.  "No, I suppose it can't."  She discarded the sleeve onto the table and unfolded the sheet of paper concealed within.  "It's a letter," the woman stated bluntly.

            The dark-haired insurance rep across from her rolled her eyes.  "Really?"

            Sting merely grinned as she leaned back and read aloud:

_Sting-_

_            Finally got onto your trail, meet me in Black End Inn at sunset, hunters are closing in, desert fox is no longer safe without cover, lie low, I will follow your lead._

_                                                                                                                                    -Scar_

            Whatever it all meant made the woman reading it stare.

            "Who is Scar?" Meryl questioned, her voice dropping to almost a whisper in an attempt to not upset the outlaw more.

            "He… he was an old friend of mine… I thought he had long disappeared."

            Milly adopted a sympathetic look.  "He left you?"

            "In a way… and in a way I left him."  She tucked the paper quickly back into the envelope and slipped it behind her back under her coat and tucked it under her belt.  "I need to go think, I will see you two later, tell the Typhoon I need to talk with him.  If this note of mine is what I think… I will… I will be forced to do something I have never done before."

            Meryl frowned a bit, watching the woman as she disappeared quickly outside.  "I don't think we'll ever see her that shook up again," she murmured.  "I wonder what this all means… God knows we don't need _more_ lunatics running around.  It's bad enough that Knives isn't dead."

            "More lunatics?  What?"

            The dark-haired woman's partner smiled widely.  "Good morning, Vann, how are you?"

            The boy yawned.  "Tired."

            "Oh?  Couldn't you sleep?"

            "No… it's just when Sting doesn't sleep, I don't sleep.  She doesn't know it but I stay up the nights she does.  At least she went to bed late last night rather than never."

            Meryl motioned for him to sit, which he did, and propped her chin up on one hand.  "How often does she stay up all night?"

            "She can go at least two weeks little to no sleep but by the beginning of the second she's ready to lose it entirely," Vann replied, staring at the tabletop.  "You can tell when she hasn't slept much.  Her eyes get red and she shakes, trembles kind of, like she's scared.  She's been like that a lot lately.  She tries to hide it but it never works.  Speaking of Sting, where'd she go?"

            The two looked at one another and shrugged.  "She didn't say," Meryl replied.

            "But she did get a letter this morning from somebody named Scar," Milly put in brightly.

            Vann's eyes bugged.  "_Scar?_" he hissed.  Meryl had a feeling that if he had shouted it would've echoed.

            "Yes!  Now who is Scar and why is he such a big deal?!" the woman asked exasperatedly.

            Vann stood up nervously from his seat and made a move to run away.  "Er, better if Sting tells you, I gotta go find-"

            "Sit!" the dark-haired woman shouted.  She might not have been very big, shorter than Sting by a few inches, but if she could order around Vash the Stampede she could order around a pint-sized ex-urchin.  
            The boy froze immediately.  Sting had yelled at him like that enough times to know that _any_ woman giving orders was a bad person to disobey, especially if one had killed an uncountable numbers of those 'unworthy' and the other could make the great Humanoid Typhoon simper like a scolded puppy.

            "Sit," Meryl commanded again, arms crossed.

            He did so.

            "Alright, now, please tell us what's going on!"

            "I don't know what's going on, that's why I gotta find Sting!" the boy replied.  Truth was he had an inkling but Sting wouldn't like it if he told anyone.

            "Who's Scar?  All I know about him is he makes people jump up and run out of the room like lightning.  Spill it, after all that time traveling with Sting you've got to know something."

            But he wouldn't like it if Meryl pummeled him to only bone marrow and some skin right then and there.

            "All I know is that the two were involved in some group or somethin' and at some point everything goes bad… Scar betrays Sting and she never forgave him_ until_ she heard he was dead a while ago.  She felt so bad she didn't eat for a week or sleep for a few."  He sighed, rubbing the side of his neck.  "Now that he's back I'm not sure what's all going to happen."

            "What is she after to begin with?"

            Vann sighed.  "Not sure, revenge mostly but against who for what I don't know, she's never told me very much and anything she has was just basics.  I think she's afraid that people are going to get hurt and probably figures the less everyone knows the better."  He paused for a moment and gave a questioning look.  "Can… I go now?"

            Meryl nodded.  "Yeah, sure, go."

            He was gone in a second, leaving his chair precariously tipping on its legs until it fell back solidly on all four.  The insurance girl sighed.  "I don't care what she does as long as _we_ don't have to follow her around."

            Milly smiled knowingly.  "Not that you mind following Mr. Vash around."

            "What's that supposed to mean?!"

            "Nothing!" the taller woman chimed innocently.

                                                *                      *                      *

            Vann, after three hours of searching, found Sting around the back of a building staring up the wall at a window, smoking a cigarette quietly.  "What are you doing?" he hissed, exasperated.

            "Scar's in _that_ window," she said softly, pointing with one hand while she flicked her cigarette to the ground, half-burned, with the other hand and smothered it with her boot.

            "Congratulations, you tracked him, now could we please go?"

            "Go where, Vann?"

            "I don't know!  Somewhere other than in a dark spooky alley where we're trapped like rats!"

            "You need to ease up some, kid.  You're going to have more white hairs than me by time you're my age."  She winked playfully.

            Well, that was definitely a change.  Playfulness when all he'd been witnessing for the last week was hostility and annoyance.

            "You're entire head is white you dork!" he shouted back, too strung up to catch the joke.

            "You just entirely missed the purpose of what I said," she replied, arms crossed.  "Scar's in that room and he is with two men-"

            "Eww!"

            "Not like that you little pervert," Sting snapped.  "Warped, twisted little git you are."

            "Well… how do you know he's in there with anybody?"

            "There are two different shadows that keep pacing the walls and Scar never talked business standing up."

            "Why don't you just go up there and talk to him now?"

            The woman stuffed her hands into her pockets.  "Because I don't trust him."

            "You trust Vash and you've only known him a few days.  Haven't you known this guy for a few years?"

            "My entire lifetime and I also suspect that dear Typhoon has the IQ of a small rodent and therefore is not a threat to me.  Besides, I trust easy and I distrust easy."

            Vann watched as she mingled around a little longer and then gave a sigh of finality.  "Alright, I'm done.  Let's get back now, it's a big city, kid, and we've got a long walk to get back to the hotel."

            "Aren't you supposed to be going to the Inn?"

            "How do you know that?"

            "Scar was a big drinker the last I heard."

            "Uh-huh," the woman hummed, crossing her arms.  "And what are you doing out?"

            The boy laughed.  "Well, I was lookin' for my dear 'mum'!"

            She spared a gruff bark of laughter.  "I ain't your mom, thank God... I just hope I'm never doomed to reproducing something as ugly as you or to telling that big of a lie _ever_ again."

            "Yeah, well, you ain't exactly a pretty picture yourself there and you wouldn't need to lie like that if you didn't get into so much trouble."

            Sting smiled a little and shoved him forward playfully.

                                                *                      *                      *

            Vash peeked in through the crack of Sting's room finding that the woman was sitting on her bed or rather lying on it… with her torso hanging off its edge, her eyes closed and her hair standing on end.  Her arms were crossed and she looked asleep.

            How she managed that he didn't know.

            "She's sleeping."  
            He glanced over his shoulder, spotting Vann.  "Like that?"

            "Yeah, Sting's a weird one, here, let me get it, I owe her one anyways."  The boy slipped pass the outlaw and into the room, moving to crouch beside the woman and leaning down close to her ear.  "STING!"

            If she had grabbed the boy in a headlock, twisting her body as much as she could to do so, any faster in reaction to being startled Vash would've thought she hadn't been asleep at all but rather expecting that.

            Vann made a raspy gargle sound as Sting slid the rest of her body off the bed and onto the floor, still holding him clamped between her arm and side.  "You know if I didn't like you so much kid I think I'd be taking your ears off about now," she growled.  She glanced up to the door and then away and did a double-take, her face lifting into a small smile.  "Oh, Stampede, hey."

            It was in this moment of lost concentration that Vann slipped from her grip and scrambled away as best he could, ducking passed Vash and vanishing out the door.  The woman's upper-lip twitched in annoyance and the outlaw could make out something like 'damn kid's gonna make me deaf'.  She stood up and brushed herself off.

            "Meryl said you wanted to talk to me."

            "Yeah, see, when I first agreed to let you help me I just sort of planned on ditching you one day along the line and going on about my own business but something's stirred up that I don't like."

            "Scar?"

            "Exactly, but… hey… how'd you know that?"

            "Milly told me about it this morning."

            Sting sighed.  "I assume you want me to explain who he is?"

            "That would help."

            The woman crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one leg.  "I've known Scar all my life, we even worked together as partners for a long while, he was my most trusted companion, but things went bad between us and it's been a year since I last saw him but last I _heard_ of him, he was dead.  So his reappearance is bringing up some questions in my mind.  Can I trust him?  Should I trust him?  What's he up to?"

            "And this involves me how?"

            "I'm supposed to meet him in twenty minutes at an Inn.  I was wondering if you and Knives wouldn't be so kind as to watch my back.  As you know I'm not good with a gun should things turn bad and physically, well, let's say that despite his age, Scar's got the strength of ten men."

            Vash sighed.  "I will but I'm not sure about Knives."

            Sting chuckled quietly.  "Yeah, I figured as much… you know, for being twins you two sure are different.  But at least try to get him to come, tell him I admire his gunning skills and I need him and his superior abilities to help me out.  That should feed his ego enough to at least entice him to come.  If he doesn't, well, one outlaw worth sixty-billion double-dollars should be good enough."

            There was silence between them as the outlaw debated in his mind whether or not he should ask the question that was burning him: what were they partners _in_ exactly?

            "I can tell curiosity's killing you at the moment.  What's on your mind?"

            "I just want to know something."

            "Like?"

            "You said that Scar was your partner… partners usually have a business… what was yours?  Mercenaries?"

            Sting looked to the floor.  "Stampede… I don't like talking about my past… or even thinking of it for that matter.  Right now… all you have to settle with is I've done things, terrible things… things that have hurt and killed hundreds of people… innocent people… and all I'm trying to do now is redeem myself and rectify my past.  I've lived too many years blood-stained and I can't take it anymore."  She looked to him, shame livid in her dull eyes.  "I've heard two different stories about you… one about a man who was heartless, cruel, and inhuman, who loved bloodshed, reveled in destruction, and killed for sport… and another by a goofy, kind-hearted, ludicrous idiot who ran about preaching love and peace love and peace, the man who could save lives without sparing a bullet."  She laughed weakly at this.  "A man who was gold of heart and merciful… who never killed no matter how wicked the man.  Please show that same mercy to me."

            "Why wouldn't I?"

            She swallowed.  "Because I don't deserve it."

            There were the soft thuds of the Typhoon's footfalls and the woman flinched a little as a gentle hand lifted her eyes to look into aqua pools.  "Everyone can change… and if you were as bad as you say… I can't see it."

            "I really hate to ruin our little heart-to-heart here but you're also blissfully ignorant."

            "Hey!  That wasn't very nice!"

            "I might've reformed but who said I had to be nice?"

            Vash looked ready to protest when the door banged into the wall it was hinged upon and Vann ran in right to Sting and hid behind her, Knives soon followed, black gun in one hand, raised level with his ear, a furious look flashing in his ice blue eyes.  "Damn brat," he growled.

            _Put it down, Knives._

            The stare down that began between the brothers escaped neither Vann nor Sting, who had one arm protectively fanned out from her body as if shielding her young ward.

            _I'd like to see you make me, brother._

            _I don't want to hurt you, Knives, but I will and considering your condition it wouldn't take much.  Put it down, Knives._

            The gun was slowly lowered to the plant's side and his brother's shoulders, which had tensed the moment he had seen Knives appear, relaxed slightly.

            Sting glanced down at Vann.  "What'd you do?" she hissed.

            "Nothing I swear it!"

            "Lying little brat, stay _out_ of my room!"

            The boy blew a raspberry but cowered a little when Knives' gun hand twitched compulsively.

            The woman's eyes narrowed and she grabbed the boy by the ear and pulled, forcing him to rise up on his tip-toes in attempt to relieve the pain, his eyes closing together in a wince as his nose scrunching.  "Next time, twerp, I might just _let_ Knives take care of you!  A bloodletting might just make you think twice next time!"

            "Aw, Sting, c'mon I didn't-"

            "Hush!"

            The boy's mouth snapped shut at the command.

            Looking caught in indecision the woman sighed, released the seized cartilage and shoved him forward roughly.  "Stay downstairs until I get back."

            Without protest or question he practically sprinted the short distance to the doorway, cowering to one side as Knives' gaze followed him and running when he was in the clear.

            "Knives, I'd like you and Vash to cover me tonight when I go and meet an old acquaintance of mine."

            "Forget it, spider."

            "If he plays his cards wrong you can shoot him.  C'mon, Knives, I could really use your experience… I admire your skills with a gun, I've never seen anything to match it."

            "Flattery will get you no where."

            Sting's eyebrow quirked and she sighed, as if defeated.  "Okay then… hey, you were right, Vash, he is still too weak for this kind of thing, I mean if he's in too much pain he's in too much pain but I thought a tough guy like him could handle just sitting in a bar.  Maybe he should stay here and rest."

            "I can handle it _fine_, spider, I just don't wish to go, you're not worth saving if something should happen, I was already subjected to that pointless task once," Knives snarled, eyes narrowing to small slits, stopping Vash before he could say anything.

            The woman nodded as if in understanding and turned to Vash.  "Denial," she whispered but Knives caught it too and anger boiled inside of him.

            "I'll go… but only because I want to prove you wrong."

            "Be my guest," she replied smugly, smirking at him.

A/N: Okay I thought that ending kind of cute lol but maybe a touch OOC… though I think Knives would want to prove her wrong.  Oh well lol.  REVIEW!!


	5. No Good Feelings Between Friends

**Chapter 5**: No Good Feelings Between Friends

A/N: Alright, another update whoo!  *punches air* I'm wired, I just had a frozen coffee and I'm feeling fine!  Anyways, for all you that reviewed THANK YOU!  And for all of you who I KNOW didn't read the REAL chapter 4, do so please!  I'm sorry it didn't show up as another update.

            Oh and I'm sure you're wondering about that Wolfwood decision…

            *Drum roll*

            No freakin' monkey WAY you're going to find out NOW!  *Classic villain laugh, gets pummeled with rotten vegetables*

            Just go read the chapter *removes rotted, smelly tomato from ear*

                                                *                      *                      * 

"Dumb boy, getting into trouble up to his ears and expecting me to pull him out of it," Sting grumbled as she straightened her black jacket over her preacher's outfit and buttoned it up, adjusting the collar and looking in the mirror.

            Reflected back to her was the image of a small, white-haired, scarred preacher blind in one eye and short in stature.  _Damn, living all my life looking like a man has made it so I'm acting like one, I cuss and grumble like some old fart drinking beer in the local saloon,_ she thought, shaking out her hair and running her hands through it so it stood up.  For a finishing touch she drew a knife and sheath from her nearby duffle bag and slid it in her boot.

            _But at least you're alive,_ the woman told herself before walking toward the bathroom and opening the window there.  Glancing out she sighed; she'd have to lower herself onto the small ledge that went all the way around the building and then jump from there, which only made the fall ten feet or so.  Momentarily she wondered how Vann had accomplished his task of getting onto the roof.

            _Shit!_

            Dust stirred up as Sting's boots met the ground with a 'thud' and as she rose to her feet, stomping her foot in anger and shaking her hand, where a cut had formed on her palm from a splinter in the wood.  A line of blood appeared but she quickly wiped it away.

A tall figure appeared at the end of the alley and the light from the above moons reflected off of a pair of yellow shades.

            "Nice glasses, Typhoon, maybe I'll borrow them sometime," she said, stopping to stand before him, arms crossing.  "The Inn's within walking distance, I'll go in first and then you and… damn, where's Knives?  Did he back out?"  (A/N: I love Vash's shades!!  They are SO cool!  *squeal*   Okay I just had to put that in.  PS: I love his coat too!  And don't ask why he's wearing the glasses at night; I just wanted to write them in somewhere lol.)

            Vash shrugged.  "I thought he was right behind me."

            "Seems my bluff didn't work as well as I had thought," Sting murmured, "oh well… maybe you two would draw too much attention and seeing how you are the most wanted man on Gunsmoke _please_ try not make a scene.  I checked this Inn out earlier and it's a bounty hunter powder keg… you would be the spark to set a fire to the whole thing."  (A/n: Alright, this Inn is not to be confused with where Vann and Sting were watching Scar through the window.  Different place.)

            "You still haven't told me how you know this Scar guy," the outlaw said as they started walking.

            "Yes I did, he was an old partner of mine, he betrayed me, I thought he was dead, and now he either one: wants to make peace or two: wants me dead," she replied.  "And no, neither of us are wanted in the same sense as you.  No one would give money to catch us… maybe some people I was and he is associated with but even now the authorities don't have a clue who to pin the award on and I don't think they'd trust mercenaries and bounty hunters to go after him… sometimes they're more crooked than the actual criminal."

            Vash sighed.  This was going to be a fun.  "Anything you want to warn me about this guy?"

            Sting crossed her arms.  "I already noted before that he's got the strength of ten men but he carries a revolver and sometimes wears gloves with small steel plates on the knuckles.  He's got the patience of a saint but the temper of a demon and even if he isn't as accurate as some men I know you should still watch out.  He's old, I'm not sure how old, but old... just don't let that fool you.  He's got the spunk of men half his age."  She smirked a little.  "But none of this should be a problem for the great Humanoid Typhoon, eh?"

            "Well, I can see why you were partners with him," the outlaw replied, scratching at the back of his head.  "He's not bulletproof or anything too, right?"

            Sting laughed.  "No."

                                                *                      *                      *

            "Don't see many of your type hanging out around here," the bartender said, wiping down a glass as he stood in front of Sting.

            "Yeah, I'm sure you don't," she replied, yawning.  She had yet to see Scar let alone hear him, which would give him away in a second; she'd know his booming baritone of a voice anywhere.

            "Can I get you anything?"

            "Water."

            "Just water?"

            "Ye-"

            "Nah, c'mon, bartender, pour the good man some whiskey, on me!"

            Sting stiffened at the voice and grunted when a large hand clapped her on the back, jolting her forward slightly.  She glanced up at him from the corner of her eye.

            He was tall, nearly Vash's height with a barreled chest and shoulders wearing a gray, collared shirt with navy blue pants.  His hair was white, much like her own, but the product of age not genetics and constant exposure to sun, his entire face was scarred and badly disfigured, and the hand he laid on the bar had a tattoo across the back of it of a skull and a pair of crossed guns.

            _Speaking of the devil,_ she thought, watching as the bartender poured a shot glass full of the bronze liquid and then sat it down in front of her.

            "I'm supposed to keep my body clean," she spoke in the hoarse rasp she always tried to imitate as Sting the Preacher, "and not indulge in the things of the world, such as drink."

            "I won't tell no one," the man replied, leaning down close to her ear, "your secret's safe with me."

            Sting's eyes narrowed.  "My secrets are safe with no one, including you… Scar."

            A smirk twitched at the corner of the man's thin lips and a large hand was placed on her back.  "Why don't you take up a seat with me in the corner there and we'll talk about lots of things in life?" he boomed, haphazardly throwing the much too curious bartender a glare.

            It wasn't like she had much of a choice, the hand on her back steered her out of her chair and across the room to a cleared corner and glancing slightly to her left she caught sight of Vash, who was talking loudly to a bunch of women.

            _I should've tied Knives up and dragged him here, at least he'd be somewhat paying attention and if it meant being able to shoot someone he'd help,_ she thought, slipping into a wooden chair at the corner of the room as Scar sat across from her and leaned in close across the table.

            "What are you doing in that ridiculous getup girl?" he hissed.

            "Makin' sure I don't get a bullet in my back compliments of an 'old friend'," she replied calmly, crossing her arms. 

            "You saying you don't trust me?"

            "I'm saying I'd much rather take my chances unarmed against every drunk in this bar," Sting snapped back, "and don't you _dare_ act hurt, you know you deserve it."

            Vash caught Sting's movement from the bar to the corner table and noticed the large man 'escorting' her, not that he was hard to miss.  Frowning a little he watched as the two fell into heated discussion and with a loud 'thud' the man slammed a fist into the table.  Sting didn't so much as jump but she shifted slightly as if progressively getting more an more uncomfortable.

            While the woman looked unsettled something was picking at the back of Vash's mind.

            _To your left, brother, the small human trembling so hard the table he's sitting at is rattling._

            _Knives?!_  Vash looked around quickly, ignoring the girls sitting around him and spotting his platinum-haired brother near the doorway, sipping at his Scotch, burning a hole into the table with his cold stare.

            _I told that spider I would come, didn't I?_

            The Humanoid Typhoon might've argued with that if Knives wasn't liable to get up and leave if he did.  He looked around for a second and finally spotted the man Knives had pointed out, blinking once.  Knives thought that guy was capable of something?  He possessed much the same features as a broomstick with mop-like (A/N: my second cleaning tool simile in the same sentence lol, alright, by all means continue) dark hair that rested askew across his forehead.  He wore a dark black cloak across his shoulders and, as Knives had said, was shaking so violently that the table he was sitting at rattled.

            _But why would Knives think he's a-_ Vash's thought was cut off as the man shifted and his hand was revealed grasping the handle of a revolver.

            He watched as, in one swallow, Stick-man finished the rest of his drink and rose to his feet, drawing the gun.  In that same instant something hit him.  There were six other men in that room wearing those exact cloaks… including the man Sting was sitting with.

            _Sting!_

            Sting would have the rest of that night to wonder exactly what went on in the two seconds that she heard Vash's voice shout her name, a woman scream, and a gunshot, making several other people yell in shock.  She barely had time to glance over her shoulder and spot Knives holding his revolver level with a man who was now slumped in a heap on the floor before someone whisked her off her chair and behind the bar.  Gunfire erupted split seconds later.

            Behind the bar she was sitting beside Vash, who was crouching low, the bartender, who had caught one of the stray bullets, to his right on the floor.  She couldn't tell if he was dead or not but assumed so by the open-eyed shock that was frozen onto his features.

            "You know what, Typhoon, I _really_ want to know how you and Knives do that," Sting said, jumping as something landed beside her and found it was Knives, wiping away some blood seeping from a graze mark on his temple.

            "Gee, Knives, you really must not be up to speed, one already grazed you," Vash teased, grinning at his brother, who scowled.

            "Shut up and start shooting," the Plant snapped.

            "You can kill the others if you want but leave Scar alive," Sting hissed, lifting her hands to cover her head as bottles of liquor that had been resting on the shelves behind the bar shattered and fell down onto them the floor.

            "What a waste," Vash murmured before he and Knives raised them guns level with their shoulders and stood up in unison.

                                                *                      *                      *

            Sting felt very useless between Knives and Vash's sharp shooting and disappointed in herself that she was playing 'damsel in distress'.  For a moment she regretted accepting the Typhoon's offer to help her out as only the Humanoid Typhoon could but realized that if he hadn't been there to cover her she'd probably be dead.

            And Knives… well… she was just grateful to have him around.  For whatever Vash lacked in maturity and seriousness he definitely made up for… maybe made up for a little too much but it was nice to know someone like him was around- even if he did creep her out as no man before had.

            He seemed… different.  But who was she trying to kid?  She was sitting next to the walking, breathing, and, sometimes unfortunately, talking natural disaster's brother.  Of course he was going to be different.

            There hadn't been many of the guys to begin with and between the two blonds there were all down in a matter of seconds though lots of rounds were wasted between the two sides.

            "I will never get use to the sound of gunshots," Sting grumbled as she rose to her feet after she was certain everyone that could cause them harm were out of the picture.  With her coat flowing behind her she vaulted over the bar quite effortlessly and surveyed the damage.

            Seven men wounded.  The woman approached one such unfortunate soul and lifted his left hand to examine a tattoo on the back of it.  A skull set over crossed revolvers.  Her eyes trailed from the hand to the black cloth of the cloak splayed out over the wooden floor.

            "That's significant I take."

            Sting looked up to find Knives' intense eyes burning a hole into the back of her skull.  She rose uncertainly to her full height, which compared to the two men she was with wasn't much, and sighed.  "Yeah, significant," she murmured.  "I'll explain some other time.  Right now… I'm just trying to get over nearly getting killed, not that you care of course, I'm sure you would just click your heels if I'd gotten shot."

            The blond man said nothing but she hadn't really expected him to.  To him it was probably either A. a waste of breath or B. having to admit she was right and that he would actually be quite happy if she died.

            She doubted if it was anything else.  Gritting her teeth she approached Scar's unconscious form.  He had a bullet wound in his left shoulder and another on the top of his thigh but he was still breathing so she could assume it hadn't hit anything vital.

            Vash was watching her earnestly when Sting finally looked up to him.  "You okay?" he asked.

            She laughed.  "Between you and Knives how couldn't I be?" 

                                                *                      *                      *

            The gunshots had naturally drawn the sheriff and his crowd but by time everything had settled and they could walk in Sting, Vash, and Knives had snuck out the back, Vash carrying Scar's unconscious form over one shoulder as the woman lead them through the twists and turns of the alleys between the buildings and then out onto the dust road again.  They were some distance away from the Inn now and closer to the hotel, which all the inhabitants had emptied out of to go and gawk at the scene.

            "I doubt it'll take long for all of that to get back to me," Sting muttered, running her hands anxiously through her hair.  "We'll have to leave soon and Stampede, if you plan on helping me you'll have to be ready to leave by dawn, I figure that's all the time we got left.  Between now and then I'll explain a little more about all of this."

            "You swear?" Vash asked.

            "Yes, I swear," she replied, waving a hand.  "Do you plan on having those girls come?"

            Vash stared at the ground.  "I don't think I could shake them off if I wanted to.  But I can try."

            Sting looked displeased but nodded nonetheless.  "My truck is on its last limb, the closest town from here is probably a day or so."  Her eyes focused coldly on Scar and both narrowed.  "We'll clean him up and wait for him to wake… I want to have a talk with him then."

            "Do you think the other people in there are okay?"  
            "Did either of you miss?"

            "No."

            "Of course not, spider."

            "Then no one else got hurt."

                                                *                      *                      *

            "Oh, thank God you're back," Meryl breathed, hand over her heart as the three walked in, her and Milly rising from where they sat at one of the tables.  "Someone told us what was going on and we were worried."  She frowned at the man slung over Vash's shoulders.  "Who's that?"

"The bastard known as Scar, son of a bitch," Sting snarled, before stomping up the stairs, motioning for Vash to follow.

            "Oh, Knives, you're bleeding," Milly pointed out worriedly.

            He scowled at her.  "Just a graze," he ground out before heading upstairs as well.

            Vann watched as Sting walked into their room, pushing the door shut and pulling her coat off, muttering long strings of vulgar curses under her breath.  If someone listened to her in a bad mood they didn't have to wonder where he got his mouth.

            "It didn't go over well?" he asked.

            She didn't reply and instead collapsed onto her bed.  The boy walked over quietly and sighed when he spotted that she must've fallen asleep before her head hit the pillow.  Rolling his eyes he undid her boots and slid them off and folded the sheets, which she was lying on as deadweight, over her as best he could.

            "G'night, Sting," Vann whispered.

                                                *                      *                      *

            Sting flinched as someone shook her roughly from sleep and opened her good eye, staring up into fierce blue eyes gazing down at her.

            "Wake up, spider."

            "Knives, what the hell?"  She blinked rapidly trying to adjust to focus on him in the darkness.

            "You said you wanted to leave before dawn, the brat has the truck loaded and your 'friend' is still unconscious and waiting in the bed."

            The woman sat up, rubbing her eyes.  Her feet were bare: Vann's work.  He was always there to take care of her.  She smiled fondly for a moment.  "Where's Vash?" she asked, throwing her legs over the side of the bed and groping around in the darkness for her boots.

            "To your left, spider."

            Sting frowned and moved her hand left slightly and met with the hard leather of her shoes.  "How'd you see that?"

            "I'm not half-blind."

            "Now that was cold."

            "And the truth," he replied in a monotone before turning from her and heading for the doorway. 

            "Hey, you, wait, where's Vash?"

            "My idiot brother is saying good-bye to those spider women."

            Sting raised an eyebrow a little but shook it off.  If Knives couldn't be nice to his own brother it wasn't her problem.

            Meryl's eyes opened wide as a hand over her mouth woke her and she was prepared to fight but found aqua blue eyes staring at her in the darkness.  She sighed in relief.  "Vash?" she hissed.  "What are you doing here?"  She sat up a little and reached for the lamp on the bedside table, turning it on low.  Milly was sleeping in her bed on the other side of the room but she slept like a rock and Meryl didn't worry too much about waking her up.

            The shadows cast by the light danced over the outlaw's features.  "Well, I know you hate it when I leave without saying good-bye so…"  He trailed off, scratching at the back of his neck and hoping to God she wouldn't fight with him.  What was he thinking?  Of course she was going to fight him!  This was Meryl!

            "You can't leave, not without Milly and I, it's our job to follow you!"

            "I know that's your job," Vash replied, "but this is dangerous and I don't want anything to happen to you… o-or Milly!"  He added the other insurance girl's name hastily, blushing a little in the darkness of the room.

            "You keep saying that but nothing has happened to us yet," she replied.

            "Yet," he whispered softly.  In his mind he went over how many things _could've_ happened to them.

            She glared at him a little bit.  "Vash… do you honestly believe that you telling me to stay behind is going to _make_ me stay behind?"

            "I was hoping so, it worked once."

            "Well it's not working again!  I never know when I'm going to see you when that happens… whether or not you're…" She trailed off.

            Vash looked earnestly at her.  "What?"

            "Still alive," she murmured.

            "You care?" the outlaw breathed, staring at her in confusion.

            Meryl gave him an incredulous look.  "Of course I care," she snapped.  "Do you think I _like_ watching you leave to only God knows where and not knowing if I'll ever see- mmph!"

            Her words were stopped short by his lips upon her own and for a moment she went rigid with wide eyes before her shoulders relaxed and her eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of his soft caress.  It stopped almost as soon as it began and once she got around to opening her eyes again the door was shut, the lamp was off, and Vash the Stampede was gone.

            _Damn him!_

A/N: Okay, so that was five.  IMO that gunfight sucked (what gunfight?  There wasn't enough written in that part for anything to be considered a gunfight!!) and that mush at the end could have gone better, all things I wish to maybe make better if they're to reoccur so, er… you know the routine!  Read and REVIEW!!   
  



	6. Revelations

**Chapter 6**: Revelations.

A/N: You guys are all aware of how disappointed I was with Chapter 5 and at this moment I'm going to explain some things that came up in the reviews.

Claymade: IE!  I KNEW, I just KNEW I should've written something in about Vash being upset over the dead bartender.  I thought about it and was going to add it but I never got around to it!  That's bugging me really bad now lol, but thanks for bringing it up, it'll remind me to put those little details like that in.

DarkAngelPearl: Knives having feelings for Sting… hmm I'm not sure where that's coming from (maybe because I'm in love with Knives and unconsciously I'm showing that?) but it likely won't happen.  Nearly 99% of what I write is romance (mostly written for my friends) and this was supposed to be my attempt at steering away from it and to appease the need to write fluff I put in the Vash/Meryl pairing.  You never know though, maybe I'll take a drastic turn down that way (whatever strikes me on the whim will likely happen because I don't have a lot planned for this fic). 

I just realized that I haven't done a disclaimer yet so I will now: I DON'T OWN TRIGUN!!!  And that will suffice for every chapter before this and after.

Chap. Summary: Sting's fuzzy past comes into slight focus and there's an occurrence of resurrection.

QUICK POLL!!!  
            Yes I dare withhold you a minute more from reading the next chapter:

I'm caught in the folds of another little problem that I need assistance with.

            I have proposed the idea of _killing off Vann_ to one of my friends and she has refused and I face pain of death if I dare do so.  I want to know who else is against this.

            **_Kill off Vann?_**

            Yes?

            No? (No Chichiri Da: VOTE THIS ONE!!!) 

            I also kind of want to know how many of you would be terribly heart broken if _Sting_ or _Scar_ died.  Don't ask what's up with my obsession of killing of chars.

                                                *                      *                      *

            Sting didn't want to let it bother her as she lay on her back in the hotel room she had rented for her and Vann once they had gotten to Nouvelle, a smaller city south of New Memphis.

            She was determined not to let what Knives had said to her when they arrived annoy her.

_            Sting helped Vash pick Scar up and haul him out of the back of the truck._

_            "What do we need him for anyways?" Knives asked, glaring at the man's limp frame.  Vash was adjusting the man's arm around his neck and supporting most of his weight like that.  "I can't imagine you being attached to him after he nearly got you killed."  His eyes focused coldly on the woman who was putting the truck's tailgate up._

_            "I don't know if he nearly got me killed or what, that's what I want to find out," Sting replied._

_            "Are you sure you're not just jeopardizing this because you know now that he's not dead after thinking he was," the Plant questioned._

_            The woman didn't answer and instead refused to meet his gaze.  "I know what I'm doing, Knives."_

_            He chuckled darkly.  "Sure you do, spider… sure you do."_

            Damn that stupid man!  He was making her doubt her own motives and she hated second-guessing herself.

            In every aspect Scar was guilty.  It couldn't be by sheer coincidence that six other men there wore the same cloaks and bore the same tattoos… that they all had been bent on shooting her and Scar had lead her away from the immediate cover of the bar.

            He had betrayed her once years ago.

            A betrayal that had etched a deep fissure of a scar across her heart: a wound that would never seal.

            She had placed all of her trust into him.

            And all of that trust had been misplaced.

            So why was she so willing to accept the fact that maybe he was on her side again?

            _Because I want some other outlet for my trust than a thirteen-year-old and a blond idiot,_ Sting thought.

            Sighing in defeat she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.  Unconsciously doing so she walked to the door and opened it, followed the hallway a few paces and reached for the doorknob of the room Scar was resting in.  She stepped in and found his fists knotted to the bedposts and feet bound together.  She wondered what would hold out: Scar's undeniable strength or the knots Knives had tied.

            Probably the knots.  Knives had seemed pretty sure of himself when he said that no 'spider' could break free of them.

            "And Knives' certainty is safer to follow than any of our instincts because Knives is the sociopath with the gun," Sting muttered, sitting down on the bit of bed that Scar didn't take up.  He wasn't an obese man but he was muscular, big enough to pick her and Vann up with very little effort, and the bed beneath him was small and seemed to sag with his weight.  "Well you certainly haven't changed a bit… hmm… maybe a bit… you're uglier than the last time I saw you, if that's feasible.  I suppose dying does that to you, huh?  It's hard to imagine you being the womanizer you are.  You'd think the only women who'd ever be interested in you are the blind, mentally deficient, or ass-ugly."

            "You ain't so pretty yourself, Sting."

            The man's eyes were bleary as they gazed up at her.  He looked dazed, from pain Sting deduced.  She had wrapped the wounds as best she could by herself and removed the bullet as well, though that was no easy, or pleasant, task and that was probably where the soreness was coming from.

            "Eh, what do you know?" she replied but he was already passed out again.  "You know, it'd figure that you'd faint before I could get _my_ gibe in."

                                                *                      *                      *

            Sting found Vash sitting by himself about ten minute's walk outside town.  He was staring off into oblivion and until she sat down beside him she doubted if he had heard her approach at all.

            The great legend said nothing to her and for a while they sat together in total silence.  Out of habit she removed a cigarette from her pocket and a box of matches.  She lit up and then took a drag.  "What are you thinking about, Stampede?" she inquired, smoke carried away by the wind.

            "A lot of things."

            "Like?"

            He turned his head so their eyes met.  "Like how you haven't told me anything about this yet." 

            It was her turn to be silent now as the cigarette slowly smoldered, held between the woman's still fingers as she sat, gazing out toward the horizon, eyes blank.

            "Can I explain everything without you flying off the handle?" Sting asked after a moment's wait.  The wind gently tossed hers and Vash's hair and for a while silence reigned over their gathering.

            "Why would I fly off the handle?" the outlaw replied, voice steady and calm, entirely different from the tone she knew him to usually have.  The idiotic, loud-mouthed, strangely pacifistic donut monster was now at least half of the legend he was said to be.

            She chuckled bitterly and looked down, eyes closing.  The scars on the left side of her face smoothed for a second into an oddly chaotic web that told a grisly story.  "It doesn't take a moron to know you don't approve of killing.  I saw the look in your eyes when you saw that dead bartender… you covered it with that lame joke about the whiskey but I knew it bothered you deep down inside."  She flicked the gathering ashes off the butt of the cigarette, which had gone untouched for some time.  "There aren't a lot of men like you, Vash… who can go through life… sinless."

            "What's that got to do with anything?"

            "I told you before I'd killed a lot of men."

            "And I forgave you."

            "You forgave me because in your mind I couldn't have _possibly_ killed more than a few.  No more than the average criminal had knocked off."  Sting's eyes turned to meet his but the gaze wasn't returned.  Instead she burned holes into his profile.  "The normal criminal can count the number of stains on his hands.  I can't distinguish it anymore.  I don't remember how many lives have ended due to me, Stampede.  And the worst part is… all I know is the fact that more innocent blood has been shed than evil."

            Vash's jaw clenched compulsively.  "Why?"

            "I don't know."

            Their eyes met this time as he stared at her in horrified wonder.  "What?"

            Sting swallowed once, nerve gathering.  She could tell him.  What was the worst thing the Humanoid could do to her?  Chastise her?  Slap her on the wrists?  "I take that back… I know why some of them died.  But the innocent ones… I can't explain that."  Her looks darkened as defiant resolution set in.  "The some that I have reasons for killing… they died because they didn't deserve to live.  People that rejoice at the sound of another's last breath don't deserve to have ever taken their first."

            It didn't surprise her really when he slammed an open palm into the dirt, making some dust rise in a cloud and then settle again.  "No one has the right to judge the worth of another," he growled, "and no one should ever take anyone's life."

            "I agree," the woman responded quickly, "but the unfortunate reality is that there are people out there who _enjoy_ that line of 'work' and if they are not stopped in someway more severe than just _telling_ them not to do it anymore they will not cease!  That is how innocent people die, Vash the Stampede… because those guilty of such crimes are not convicted."

            The outlaw didn't look at her.  His fist gathered some same into one hand but stopped.  "You remind me a lot of him."

            "Him who?"

            "A friend of mine who died a while back… Nicholas D. Wolfwood.  The traveling priest."

            "I'm sure I'm honored but this conversation isn't about remembering an old friend."

"He used to think sacrifice was necessary."

            "Because it is."

            "_No it's not!_"  The shout was allowed to echo in the silence of the desolation.  No one was around to hear them bicker so neither was held back by worry that they'd draw attention.  "You're such a hypocrite, Sting!  You say murderers need to die!  Well what separates you from any other murderer out there?!"

            "I'll atone for my sins in death when I stand before God but right now I can live with being a hypocrite!  But I will not answer to you about what I think!  You might be a legend but I've lived long enough to know that legends die eventually because they screw up!"  For a moment she paused and when she resumed her voice was much softer.  "And I wouldn't be surprised if your death was the result of refusing to kill someone that only needed one thing: a bullet to the heart.  People don't change, Vash… they might turn around but the shadows of their darkened past haunt them for the rest of their life and there is always the temptation there to return to a darker side.  I know this because I fight those shadows every night before I go to sleep."

            Dust was unsettled as Sting rose angrily from where she sat and started off, following their footprints toward town.

            Vash's voice stopped her.

            "You haven't told me anything you promised to yet."

            For a second all was still and she stood unmoving.  "The town I grew up in was just outside of a larger city.  Because so few people lived there, and even fewer passed by, there was really no call for law enforcement.  The men of the town did whatever protecting the needed to themselves.  My father was trusted with passing judgments on the few offenders that passed by.  His sanity was lost, however, when a band of ruffians stirred some dust* one day and my mother was killed in the process.  None of them left town a live."

            (_Stirred some dust*- My creative way of saying 'caused some trouble' or any alternative of that that means the same thing.  I don't know why I thought I should explain myself.  Go fig…)_

            The words hung in the still desert air and she let Vash mull them over for a minute before continuing.

            "New standards were set by an organization my father created in order to prevent that ever happening again.  Criminals that came into town didn't leave for some time if they ever left at all.  It wasn't long before this idea, which had been put into action for the reason that it was meant to serve in the name of peace, was tainted by my father's predecessor.  She was born Diana Kross… but not wanting the name tainted one 'Sting' was created.  I never reverted back to being called Diana because I never wanted to destroy that name's reputation and would bear the sins that this one was weighed with without hesitation about what the consequences would be.  Besides… I was a different person."

            "Go on."

            The prompt wasn't as steady as Vash wanted it to sound.  In truth he was struggling with himself.  He didn't want to hear anymore because he didn't want the image of her that he had built to be destroyed and he had a gut feeling that any second it would be.  But curiosity nagged at him.

            He _needed_ the truth.

            And apparently Sting thought so too because with little hesitation she plunged head first back into her explanation.

            "My father's intention had been to take on good, strong men to defend the innocent at whatever cost necessary.  I distorted his image by turning the group for the worst.  It started off just a little different at the beginning but soon the original purpose was lost and the group became no better than a band of ruthless pirates looking for innocents to prey on and then destroy.  We robbed, we stole, we killed.  More sand was stained with blood by those under my command than anyone else.  I created a monster and, after my eyes were opened, I dedicated my life to destroying the beast I'd once been apart of."

            "So these men that have been following you… use to work for you?"

            Sting turned to face him again finally.  "More or less," she replied.  "Mutiny was commonly brought up.  A woman running the show wasn't heard of but I was strong and held my ground.  Back then I was better conditioned to fight physically and fire a gun without really taking time to aim.  I was feared more than respected but there comes a point where the two often coincide.  Once I talked about destroying the source of their pleasure and income I'd gone too far and suddenly that fear was no longer existent.  I was just lucky I wasn't killed when they took me prisoner and set forth to punishing me as properly as they could.  Scar, even though he had supported the mutiny, had done one final act as my friend and partner and helped me escape brutal punishment and torture.  After that I marked him an enemy and a traitor.  I didn't leave, though, without losing my eye and gaining a few scars."

            "And since then?"

            "The details would put you through too much pain," Sting replied, voice still steady though the look in her eyes wavered.  "Do you regret forgiving me now?"

            "If I couldn't forgive someone, what would be the point of doing what I do?" he asked.

            "You mean what would be the point of running around and screaming 'love and peace'?" the woman shot back, grinning wryly.

            Vash grinned and nodded as he stood up.  "Exactly.  But where'd you hear about that anyways?"

            "Meryl told me," Sting said, shrugging, watching as he dusted off his red trench coat.  "What's going on between you two anyway?

            The outlaw fell back as if struck physically by the force of the question.  "What?!  M-me and M-Meryl?!  Nothin'!  I swear!  We're… we're just… friends… yeah that's it, friends!"

            "Talk about getting your hand caught in the cookie jar," she chuckled, "I was just asking, you didn't have to spaz out like I was accusing you of sleep-"

            "Vash!  Sting!"

            Vash looked up while Sting whirled around to spot Vann sprinting toward them.  He skidded down a sand dune and stumbled a few more steps closer.  "They found some guy just outside of the town and dragged him in, he looked pretty sick, his face was all sunken in and he was dehydrated, they think he'll pull through but I thought I should let you know: he was looking for Vash!"

                                                *                      *                      *

            Vash acted iffy about the situation as they hurried back but Sting didn't blame him.  The man was the most wanted person on the planet; there were hundreds of people out there looking for him.  This could just be one more who was unfortunate enough to fall to the oppression of the desert.

            "The doc ain't letting anyone see him," Vann said as they neared the room the man was said to be.

            There was a commotion down the hall and as a door was flung open shouting was made audible.

            "I'm not sick damn it!"

            "Please, sir, calm down, you should-"

            "I_ should_ be on my way; I don't have time to be lying down!"

            "But, sir, you don't understand, your condition-"

            "Forget my condition, man, I need to find Vash!"

            "The Stampede?!"

            "Who the hell else?!"

            Sting and Vann, both of whom looked entirely unruffled by these yells, seemed to be drawn closer.

            Vash however paused.

            "No, it can't be."

            Sting turned to look at him.  "No it can't be what?" she asked, eyebrow cocked up at him.

            "That voice…"  The outlaw trailed off again.

            "You're not making any-"

            "Sir!"

            A man stumbled out into the hallway wearing a button-up, collared shirt that wasn't buttoned up, no shoes, a pair of dusty trousers, and a look of annoyance.  His hair was black and unkempt appearing and he looked like he hadn't had the chance to shave in a while but Vash seemed to know him.

            "WOLFWOOD?!"

            The man's dark eyes turned on them and they widened.

            "VASH?!"

A/N: Mwahahaha!!   CLIFFHANGER!!   Of course you probably all suspected that…  REVIEW. 


	7. The Priest, the Bounty Hunters, and the ...

**Chapter 7**: The Priest, the Bounty Hunters, and the Traitor

Chapter summary: Wolfwood explains his adventure, bounty hunters target Vash, and Scar wakes up (insert dramatic music here).

A/N: Nothing really to say except sorry for the long downtown between updates.  Enjoy!  And don't forget to review!!!!!! 

                                                *                      *                      *

The air seemed to get sucked out of the hallway for a moment and then the next second Vash was hugging the other man tightly, babbling hysterically about something while the other one just looked too dumbfounded to really speak but happy all the same.

            "I can't believe that it's actually you!  You were dead!  I saw the blood and… and… it's you!!" Vash said, his words almost completely unintelligible beyond that.

            "Needle-noggin, it's good to see you but put be down for crying out loud!!" the other man roared, good humor concealed in his tone.

            Eventually Vash _did_ put him down and the two stood for a long time in disbelief.

            "You were dead," the Typhoon murmured.  "I couldn't believe it when I saw you lying there… I knew it… I knew you were gone but… I couldn't make myself believe it.  When we found your body… rather… when I found it, I made the girls stay outside… I couldn't bring myself to bury you… I planned to the next day after I'd gotten a grip on everything but you were already gone.  I figured the priest must've taken care of it."

            Wolfwood grinned wryly.  "You should've known you couldn't get rid of me that easy… but the hall's no where to talk about this sort of thing and I see you've got company, a new follower or just someone you're helping out here?"  He laughed and turned his gaze to Sting and Vann.  "A priest?  Replaced me already, have you?"

            "Ignore the collar," Sting said, shaking her head and approaching.  "My name's Sting, the kid there is Vann."  She held out a hand, which he took and grasped briefly.

            "Nicholas D. Wolfwood," he replied.

            The woman frowned a little as she re-crossed her arms.  "It would seem the fates were alerted by your mention of him earlier, Typhoon.  It's good to meet you."

            "Likewise, I'm sure," Wolfwood agreed, nodding.   "I have a feeling that you two aren't just with him as replacements for the girls."

            "No,  we-"

            "Knives!" Vash cut Sting's explanation short as he spotted his brother stepping from their shared room.

            The man didn't respond but instead narrowed his eyes at Wolfwood.  "Still alive?" he growled.

            "Yeah," the priest drawled back, "and so are you I see… oh well we all make mistakes, even Vash."

            If looks could kill then Wolfwood would surely be six feet under because the glare Knives spared the man even made Sting cringe.

            "Aw, c'mon you two!" Vash said, throwing an arm around each of them.  "We can be friends, right?"

            "No," they muttered in unison, scowling at each other.

            Sting coughed, turning the gazes on her.  "Eh, yeah, I hate to break up this… beautiful… reunion but I'm a little, well, confused.  If he was so dead before why's he here?"

            "Good question," Wolfwood said, breaking away from Vash.  "But let's talk in one of your rooms."

            The others, except Knives, of course, nodded in unison.

                                                *                      *                      *

            "I'm not really sure how it all came around either," Wolfwood began, scratching the back of his head.  He sat on Vann's bed, hunched over slightly with his elbows on his knees.  Knives was leaning against the door frame, scowling, Vash was in a chair just off to the side of the priest, and Sting sat with Vann on her bed.  "I swear to you… I _was_ dead, I felt it... something I'll never forget… it was like losing something but not something good… a burden.  And then I woke up.  The vicar there had found my body and took me home where he and his wife took care of me and healed my wounds… or what was left of them."

            "What do you mean by 'what was left of them'?" Sting asked, her interest peaked.

            The priest laughed.  "It was the strangest thing… the bullets, they didn't go in half as deep as they should've and were missing when they were looked for.  I needed to regain my strength from the loss of blood but otherwise… I was fine.  I'd swear to anyone that it was a miracle-" he glanced at Vash and grinned-"I suppose God didn't think anyone was safe with you on the loose and nobody there to keep an eye on you."

            The outlaw chuckled quietly and scratched the back of his head.  "I don't understand it though… how do you think that happened?"

            "Don't know," Wolfwood replied, "I'd like to think that my faith's been well-placed, even if I'm more of a sinner than a saint."

            "Doubtful," Knives snorted before opening the door of the room and stepping out.

            Vash sighed.  "I probably should go after him."

            "You probably should," Sting agreed with a nod.

            "Hey, Vann, you wanna come?  I saw some kids earlier playing dodgeball!  We can join them after we find Knives!"

            Vann's face lit up in a grin as he leapt up off the bed. "Yeah!  I'm sick of being cooped up in this stupid hotel!  Can I go, please Sting?"

            Sting frowned a little.  She never did like Vann out of her sight unless she sent him there by herself and the thought of the trouble he and Vash could cause was mind-blowing.   But the two of them flashing pathetic puppy-eyes made her resolve break and she smiled.  "Alright, get out of here."

            "Yes!" the two shouted in unison and ran out as well.

            "He yours?" Wolfwood asked.  "The kid I mean."

            "I figured you meant the kid," Sting replied, grinning, "and no, he's not… his parents abandoned him and he grew up as a troublemaker, I took him under my wing when we met.  Can't say he's necessarily better off this way."

            "I don't know you so I can't say."

            The woman laughed.  "That won't take long."

            He nodded and watched as she took her coat off and then removed the collar.  "I take it you're not a priest then."

            "You ever met a woman priest?"

            He laughed.  "Guess not."

            Sting smiled as she pulled on her brown coat.  "It would seem that you've been abandoned by Vash."

            "That's nothing new," Wolfwood replied, "where are you going?"

            "Well I planned on going to get some food."  She paused a second as she fished her sunglasses out of her pocket and put them on.  "Can I ask you something?"

            The priest shrugged.  "Sure thing."

            "Why were you so anxious to find Vash?"

            He sighed.  "I heard something back in New Memphis."

            "We just came from there."

            "I know.  I've been following 'Vash sightings' for a while. I arrived in Memphis the morning you guys left.  There was a rumor about some bounty hunters there that planned on moving on him once they got here.  I didn't hear much else but I thought it was necessary to find him before they did."

            Sting smiled as she removed a cigarette from her pocket and lit it.  She hesitated a second before offering him one as well.

            "No thanks, I'm trying to quit."

            She chuckled.  "Yeah, like that ever works.  I figure you gotta die from something."

            "Yeah, well, going through what I did changed my point of view on things."

            "I can imagine it would," she replied, nodding.  "Why so anxious about the bounty hunters though?  I'm sure he's used to it by now.  You acted like you were gonna kill to get to him."

            Wolfwood laughed and rubbed at the back of his neck.  "Yeah well, let's blame that partially on just wanting to see him alive for myself.  It seemed unlikely after Knives."

            "I've got this feeling that I should ask about that some day," Sting said as she took a long drag from the cigarette.  "What's up with them?  I mean, I've seen a lot of sibling rivalries in my life but none quite _that_ bad."

            "Believe me, it's a long story and one best told by them.  It's not my place to explain things even I don't get some times."

            The woman nodded and motioned with the cigarette toward the door.  "You want to come?  It's on me."

            "Well, how could I refuse that?" he replied, standing up.

                                                *                      *                      *

            Sting had gone through an explanation of her life's story with Wolfwood for the second time in a day and was feeling better and better about doing it.  It eased some of the pain but she knew that it was no burden that she could unload on just anyone.

            The priest sat across from her at a table near the center of the downstairs of a restaurant, which was empty aside from them and a few shadier characters at the bar that she didn't want to make the acquaintance of. 

            "Damn… how'd Vash take that story?"

            "Better than I thought he would, honestly.  Can't help but feel like he doesn't trust me as much anymore."

            Wolfwood watched the woman for some time as silence fell over them.  She sure didn't look capable of mass murder but then again, neither did Knives until you got to know him.  "So what's up with the priest get-up?"

            She shrugged.  "It's something to hide behind," she said, "and it's worked so far.  How many people do you think look twice at priest?"

            "Is it that necessary to blend in?"

            "Hopefully only until either one, I die, or two, Mason does."

            "Who's Mason?"

            "The man who lead the mutiny; I trusted him the most next to Scar," she replied, eyes growing dark as she spoke but the clouds faded quickly and she shook her head.  "I don't want to talk about it any more today."

            "I don't blame you," the priest replied, sitting back in his chair, crossing his arms.  "Where are the girls?"

            "Milly and Meryl?  Vash left them behind in New Memphis… of course by now they could still be in the hotel or on their way here.  I'm not sure."  She inserted here a thoughtful pause.  "Should we be worried about those bounty hunters?"

            "I wouldn't be… it was just a rumor.  The guy I asked there said the chances were slim."

            Sting nodded and stood up from her seat but froze when something was pressed into the small of her back.  "You know where Vash the Stampede is?" a voice rasped at her from the back.

            So much for slim chances.

            Wolfwood's eyes narrowed at the skinny, snake-faced man behind Sting, pressing a revolver, which he could just see, into her back.  The priest made a move to stand up as well but the barrel of a gun pressed into the back of his skull and he closed his eyes and cussed quietly.

            "Maybe."  She winced as the gun was ground harder into her back and glanced around for assistance but found that the bartender and waitresses had already ducked for cover.  "Easy with that gun, honey," she murmured, "you could really hurt someone with it you know."

            "Shut up!"

            Sting met Wolfwood's gaze as the man was forced to stand up and raised her eyebrows at him.  The silent and most obvious question was 'what now?'.

            There was a second's worth of silence and then both nodded in agreement.

            The priest, without so much as glancing, reached behind him and grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the gun and pointed it away, twisting the arm roughly inward, which drew out a cry of pain, before slugging the attacker hard enough for a KO.

            Sting had already reacted by time Wolfwood had first moved and dropped down low before her captor could respond and swept his legs out from beneath him with one of hers.  He fell back hard and with a crunch, the woman crushed his gun hand with her boot and kicked the weapon out of his reach.

            "Nice," Wolfwood approved as Sting retrieved the gun.

            "Could say the same for you; though it's been a while since I've seen moves like that out of priest… namely never."

            The man chuckled as he held out a hand for the gun, having already retrieved the other.  "I'm not an ordinary priest."

            She nodded as she handed him the weapon.  "Believe me… I gathered that but I also gather that these thugs were just the first wave and that friends of theirs might be looking for Vash in a more aggressive manner."

            "Good assumption.  I saw those kids he talked about earlier just a few streets down from here; we'd better get going before something happens."

            "Well then let's move.  So much for that slim chance, eh?" 

                                                *                      *                      *

            Vash froze in the middle of being mobbed by a rather large group of kids and looked around quickly.  _Something's coming._

            "Hey, Mr. Vash, what's wrong?"

            The worry fell away from the outlaw's features for a second as he smiled brightly at the little girl who'd asked.  "Um, nothing.  Hey, kids-" this drew their attention away from play-fighting him for a second-"why don't we play a new game?!  Hide and seek!  You go hide and I'll come find you!"

            Appeased by this offer they all agreed unanimously and ran off to hide while Vash pretended to close his eyes and turn his back.

            "Vash?"  Vann was standing beside the man, frowning in worry, looking up at him with questions bouncing around in his eyes.

            "Vann, get down!"

            The boy yelped as he was tackled out of the way by Vash.

            A gun shot cracked through the rather calm afternoon air followed and a split second later a bullet stirred up the dirt where Vann was standing a second before.

            "They missed!" Vann shouted, not sure why he was saying that in a tone like he was disappointed as he started to sprint away, doing his best to keep up with Vash.

            "Yeah, well, I got the feeling that if we stay here too long that won't be the case!" the outlaw replied.

            A pair of gray-green eyes watched from a nearby rooftop as the two ran. 

            "Damn it you idiot don't go that way!" Sting snarled, watching as Vash and Vann turned down an alley as a bullet ricocheted off the wall above them.  "It's a dead end! Vash!"

            "There are two shooters watching from windows on either side of the street," Wolfwood replied over his shoulder.

            "Damn it.  And there's another guy on the ground… if you take out the two snipers I'll take him."

            "I can't get both.  There's the one a building over from where we are and then the one across the way there," the priest explained, pointing to one building.  Sting just made out a window curtain shifting and frowned a little.

            There was suddenly a scream and from the window of the other building a man fell to the ground and laid there motionless.  This distracted the one on the ground, who sprinted to his partner to check for signs of life.

            Another volley of bullets aiming directly at that window followed from the remaining sniper but he was soon silenced by a few shots from Wolfwood.

            "Talk about answered prayers… who do you think did that?" the priest asked.

            "Not sure," Sting replied, sliding up her pant leg and removing the dagger from her boot.  "But I'm on."

            "You sure you don't want a gun?"

            "Positive!  While I'm busy with him you go help Vash and the kid!" she shouted as she vaulted over the three-foot high wall that was erected along the front of the building's roof, which they'd been using for cover, and then leaping off the sloped porch awning.  "Hey, nimrod, over here!"

            The bounty hunter looked up and sneered, eyes narrowing slightly.  He was almost Scar's size but younger with a shaved head and nose piercing.

            "We're after Vash the Stampede, not you, get out of here before I'm forced to pound you for getting in the way, I don't normally hit women but I ain't got a problem with hitting the ugly ones" he growled, grinning stupidly.

            Sting's eyes narrowed.  "Oh, just come a little closer and say that to my face, ugly.  Speaking of faces and being ugly, what's up with yours and that nose ring?  Is it decoration or did your mother lead you around by it?  Did you even have a mother or were you just some slime that flopped off a rock and formed?  Because God would never make any woman bear a baby as ugly as what you must've been."

            The grin melted away quickly into a scowl and when he started to charge at her she ran at him as well, gripping the knife in her hand tightly.

            The plan had been formed based on a split second's decision but it worked: just before they were to run into each other the woman leapt up and used his shoulder as a spring board with one hand to leap over him, in the process ramming the knife into the mid-region of his back far away, she hoped, from anything vital.

            Dust was kicked up as she landed in a crouch and glanced back to find him stumbling forward, obviously seized in pain and shock.

            There was blood but not enough to indicate a serious injury.

            Which was bad for her because she only had one knife and that didn't kill him; then again he seemed too muscle-bound to reach the knife and pull it out.

            "I'm sorry, does that hurt?" she mocked, turning to face him and crossing her arms.

            "Damn you!" he roared.

            Somehow she hadn't seen the holster at his hip so when he spun around, gun pointed at her, her eyes widened.

            She was fast but there was no way she could dodge bullets especially at a nearly point-blank range.

            Sting grunted as a pair of arms wrapped around her and she was knocked roughly out of the way.  Two gunshots followed this and for a second she remained still with her eyes squeezed shut before she opened them and found herself staring into blue eyes.

            The woman grinned.  "Vash, when did you cut your hair that short?"

            Knives scowled at her as they stood up.  "It won't happen again."

            "Oh that's too bad… you're kind of sexy when you play hero," she replied, brushing dust from her clothes and looking about, unaware, or maybe more uncaring, of the fact that the man was glaring her down.

            The larger man was lying flat with a wound in both legs.  He was unconscious, probably from shock or pain, or both, and not quite so intimidating.

            She winced, realizing that the knife would've sunk deeper with him falling on it and was hoping that he had plenty of muscle for it to penetrate before it reached vitals.

            "I don't think he's dead… what about the guy you threw out the window?"

            "He's still alive," Knives replied.

            Sting nodded, running a hand back through her hair.  "Well… let's say we regroup with the others and figure out just what the heck we're going to do."

                                                *                      *                      *

            Sting couldn't get over how lucky Vash seemed to be despite his habit for attracting destruction like cookies attract children.

            The kids the man had been goofing off with before with Vann were absolutely _convinced_ that he'd sent them off on the game of hide and go seek to get them out of the way, which he had, but it'd of been harder for him, an outlaw, to convince the adults of that than it was for the children.

            Sting had expected to have to leave yet another town; instead she, Vann, Wolfwood, Knives, and of course Vash were treated to free drinks at the town's most popular saloon where the classier losers and drunks hung out later that night.

            The woman glanced back to a table in the corner and smiled as she spotted Vann sitting there, getting paid attention to by some pretty saloon girls who seemed more drawn to his cuteness than to the other patrons' 'charm'.  This of course annoyed the other patrons but then again who was going to mess with the kid that traveled with the Humanoid Typhoon?

            She moved to slide off the barstool but was stopped by Vash throwing a heavy arm around her shoulders.

            "W-where ya going, Sting?" he slurred, looking at her hazy half-crossed eyes.

            Sting turned away with a disgusted look.  "Blech!  Good God, Stampede you reek, I think you've have one too many already."

            "Nonsense, I've only had-" he paused to count the number on his fingers but as if forgetting what he was doing suddenly leaned back over the bar-"hey, bartender, get me another round of that good stuff!"

            The woman smacked her forehead and sighed, glancing over to Wolfwood and Knives.  "I'm going back to the hotel, make sure that he gets back in one piece-"she paused, glancing over at the corner again to Vann who was laughing loudly-"ugh, and make sure he does too, I don't know what those girls are slipping him but he's even more obnoxious that he usually is."

            "Sure thing," the priest said, nodding.

            Sting nodded and weaved her way through the crowd out the swinging doors and into the street.

                                                *                      *                      *

            Sting had reached her hotel room not long after leaving the bar and was changing into her pajamas while she mused over what had happened.

            Knives had actually saved her.

            She couldn't help but chuckle quietly at the thought as she dried her hair from her evening shower and then threw the towel off to the side and shook the short locks out.

            _I suppose he'd lose his intrigue value if he didn't surprise you every once in a while,_ she thought staring at the reflection in the mirror and lifting a hand to trace the scars on the left side of her face.

            What was she thinking?!  Knives wasn't 'intriguing'!  Knives was an asshole!

            "An asshole with pretty eyes by one nonetheless," she told her reflection.

            Sting sighed as she removed fresh bandages from her bag and stepped out of her room and headed for Scar's.

            And now for the lion's den.

            "Alright big, disfigured, and ugly, let's get this done with," she said aloud, opening the door and then jumping when she spotted the man sitting up in bed, staring at her solidly, fully dressed and holding a gun.  "Scar!"

A/N: I think that it's a good time to warn y'all now… a lot of the stories in my old FF.net account had several cliffhangers and I rather enjoy torturing my reviewers… so there's liable to be plenty of cliffies running a muck in my stories.

REVIEW!!!!!!!!!


	8. Partings

**Chapter 8**: Partings

A/N: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I'VE UPDATED!! Whee!

The long awaited Chapter 8 is here as well as the solution to that God-awful cliffhanger I left you guys on!

Chap. Summary: No summary this chapter, you have to read to find out what happens.

Below is my attempt at that little 'preview' thing at the end of all Trigun Episodes… well mine, when I do them, will be at the beginning. It's not really from any one character's perspective so yeah…

_There are some people that we come across in life who leave their mark on our hearts. Memories of them might fade but the impact they had upon our lives is forever. And if they're important enough to us, even if they betray, we will always long to forgive them and when they die… we will always long to hold them just one last time and say to them what we didn't have the courage to say._

> > > > > Sting swore that for a minute her heart beat outside of her chest as she stared down the barrel of the revolver pointed at her.

"It'd be so easy," the man whispered. "Just to put a bullet in you now, kid… you've been a thorn in my side since we met." A small smile graced his features. "But I don't think I could do that… you're my favorite heartache, kid… even if your ass ain't worth a cent."

"And you _really_ just enjoy the thrill that comes with aiming a gun at someone and giving them a heart attack huh?!" she shouted back, all shock and panic leaving in an instant as anger settled in.

Scar chuckled. "Could you blame me?" he asked.

"I guess not."

He nodded as he looked down at the gun and then promptly sat it down on the nightstand. "We have a lot to talk about."

"Indeed we do. But why don't we first take care of those wounds, hmm? And since you're awake-" she tossed him the rolls of bandages and gauze-"you do it."

"Never willing to do anything for anyone else once it becomes an inconvenience, eh?"

Sting smiled as she kicked back in a chair across the room from his bed. "You know the story all too well, Scar, I'm surprised you had to even say that and besides… you're always an inconvenience . Now who should ask the questions first? Me, because I was the victim of that little set up, or you, because your poor, decrepit body had to go through the ordeal of being shot?"

"It wasn't a set up!" he protested, unbuttoning his shirt and then easily removing the bandages.

"Then exactly what the hell was it, Scar?!"

The man sighed and stared at the ground. "He really wants you back, you know."

"That's too bad because all I'm willing to give him is a hot, lead bullet right between the eyes. Now explain."

"I didn't set it up, I swear. I didn't even know that they had followed me."

"But the way that they set up for the attack… there was no way that those morons could've come up with it themselves… unless, of course, Mason's gone up a rung on the ladder of organized crime and hired somewhat intelligent goons."

Scar shook his head as he started to re-bandage his shoulder wound. "They had someone else order that attack. They wouldn't have moved in otherwise. Somebody knew that you were going to be there."

"So you're saying that someone's been following me? I'd of seen them by now. Besides, they don't know about my disguise… you didn't even know about it."

"Are you looking hard enough? Who were those aces you had up your sleeves back at the bar? Maybe one of them-"

"That's impossible."

"How would you know that? Who are they?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow at her as he tucked in the loose end of the white bandage and slowly eased his shirt on.

Sting sighed. "The one's named Millions Knives. He's a crack shot, strong, but has been recently seriously wounded in a gunfight."

"And the other one?"

"His name's… well… he's Vash the Stampede."

This, to Scar, seemed funny, because the second the words escaped her lips he promptly burst into loud, obnoxious laughter. "Nice one, Sting… now c'mon, tell me… what's his name?"

"Which one do you want, dumbass? Vash the Stampede? The Humanoid Typhoon? The world's first _human_ natural disaster? The sixty-billion double-dollar man? The donut-munching crybaby of a gunman who's following me around? Pick one, it's the same guy!"

The man stared at her seriously. "You're really serious aren't you?"

"Do you think that I'd joke about something like that?"

"Vash the Stampede," he whispered, musing over it, "the frickin' Humanoid Typhoon. Are you sure he's the real thing?"

"He's proved it countless times. Besides, someone like him wouldn't go around saying he was Vash unless he _really_ was. He'd have no reason to otherwise."

Scar sat back, mindlessly buttoning and unbuttoning the top of his shirt. "So… you're that desperate to get rid of Mason, huh? Turn a blood-thirsty killer like that on him?"

"I didn't hire Vash to do anything… and that man's_ hardly_ what I'd call a 'blood-thirty killer'."

"Didn't hire him, eh?"

"Nope… he sort of hired himself… funny really. We met by accident but I think it's more like destiny now."

"Don't feed me that bullshit, kid," Scar grumped back, eyeing her. "Destiny my boot."

Sting laughed and stood up from her chair, stretching her arms into the air as she rose up on her tip-toes. "Bitter as ever I see."

"I never had a reason to be otherwise… look, why don't you get out and go to bed? We can talk more in the morning. I've been sitting here for three hours waiting for your sorry ass and I'm beat."

The woman nodded turned to leave but his voice stopped her again.

"So you're sure it can't be him? Either of them?"

She placed her hand on the doorknob and shook her head. "No… I trust them both… maybe that's insane… and suicidal… but I do. Good night, Scar."

"Hmph."

(Next morning- it's not letting me put in my normal spacing)

"Vann, get up, c'mon."

The boy groaned as he curled tighter into a ball beneath the covers of his bed. "Go away, Sting."

"You're sick aren't you? See I _told_ you not to take those drinks from those saloon girls but _no_ you're a big man, you can handle it and besides they were pretty, right? That's what you get for not listening to me," Sting chided as she stood over him, arms crossed, glaring.

"Does that mean you'll go away?"

"No, it means that I merely have to do this!"

Vann emitted a sound that was a cross between a squawk and a shriek as Sting lifted the mattress and dumped him out onto the floor.

"See you downstairs in five kid."

"What is that thing?" Sting asked as she approached Wolfwood and Vash, who were seated in the hotel's lobby. Leaning against the wall next to the priest was a large cross covered with canvas, which was held on by a series of belts.

"It's a beauty isn't it," Wolfwood said proudly, smiling, "had it sent in just this morning after Vash told me last night that he'd left it behind a few cities back."

The woman grunted as she tried to lift it but found it impossible. "I can see why he would. It'd be impossible to carry it and Knives. But that still doesn't explain what it is."

"It's his personal arsenal," Vash said, "or at least something like that."

"A priest with an arsenal, huh? That's a teensy bit unusual. Oh, damn, wait, what was I thinking? Vash the Stampede having someone _normal_ following him around? Never," the woman quipped, rolling her eyes as she sat down.

"Very funny," the outlaw muttered, eyeing her.

Sting grinned. "So, are we going to hang around here some more?"

"You're the one that's been dragging us around so far so why don't you decide?" Vash said propping his chin up on his palm.

The woman shrugged and shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "We could stay here another day I guess. It wouldn't hurt anything."

"Iya!"

Sting raised an eyebrow as Vash fell backwards out of his seat and jumped when a large hand was placed on her shoulder. "Oh, hey, old man," she said, looking up at Scar and then laughing sheepishly. "Ooh, hey, Vash I forgot to tell you, Scar woke up last night."

"No kidding?!" the outlaw shouted, thumping his head on the table as he tried to sit up and then falling back again and he held the offended area. "So I take it he's not the bad guy if you're being so nice to him."

"Well, he's not _the_ bad guy at least."

"Jeez, Sting, don't be so nice," Scar muttered, pulling up a chair.

"Careful, asshole, the little thing might not hold your fat."

"I'd rather be fat than a twig," he snarled, lifting a foot and pushing her and her chair over.

"Gah!"

The window behind them shattered and in a second humans proved to be the excitable beasts they are and all chaos broke loose.

_No way,_ Wolfwood thought as the memory of the old man shoving the woman down just in time flashed through his mind. _No one but Vash can do that._

If anyone else at the table made this realization they didn't show it as Sting and Vash scrambled to one side of the now empty window pane and Scar and Wolfwood made for the other.

"What the hell?" Sting whispered. "I thought that we were done with this shoot-out bullshit for another few days! Do you have a different schedule than me or something, Typhoon?"

Vash ignored her for a second as he drew his gun. Secretly he glanced over at Scar, who looked peeved. _How did he know?_ the Plant thought. _Knives, where are you?_

_Resting, brother, like you told me to this morning… another assailant… you don't have very good luck do you?_

_ Now's not the time to be like this, Knives,_ Vash grumbled mentally back. _At least help by covering fire or something._

The brother's reply didn't come and Vash swore under his breath. Knives' mood-swings had the worst timing.

"We're sitting ducks here!" Wolfwood growled. "What the hell are we supposed to do? Someone could get shot!"

"Someone already has," Sting whispered, horror gripping her.

In the confusion they'd all missed where the bullet had landed and that a young girl, stricken silent by absolute terror, was now kneeling beside her father, who was slowly bleeding over the lobby floor.

"Damn it," the priest hissed, lunging forward to assist.

Sting watched as Vash moved to help as well, tending to the man's wound as Wolfwood did his best to comfort the little girl, who's tear-streaked and panic-stricken face hurt more than bullets.

"Wait… where's Vann?!" the woman hissed, eyes widening. He should've been down quite a while ago, though she was happy he wasn't, she worried irrationally for him.

"We'll worry about that later," Scar replied as he carefully slid up the wall so he didn't reveal himself through the window and managed a look through the shattered pane. "It's clear now I think. I don't see anyone in the building across from us. They must've split after they realized that they hadn't hit who they wanted to. Let's get that guy a doctor, there's nothing you can do, Vash."

()

"Knives? Knives, I was wondering if you'd seen Vann, I can't find him anywhere and-" Sting stopped half-way through what she was going to say when she realized that the room she was stepping into was desolate. She sighed. "You know it'd figure that you're gone when I actually need your help with something."

She sighed, glancing around the room, frowning as her eyes caught some bandages lying on the bed. When she neared she could see that they were stained red with blood and looked new used.

"What are you doing in here?"

Sting looked up quickly to find Knives standing in the doorway of the bathroom that attached to his bedroom. He wore a white, collared shirt and a pair of simple cotton pants and looked very irked with her presence. "Sorry, I was just wondering if you'd seen Vann."

"I haven't seen the brat, now get out before I remove you," he replied sharply, venom in his tone.

Sting lifted one of the bandages from the bed. "Where'd this come from?"

"That's none of your business," Knives snapped. He wanted to move from where he stood in the doorway of his bathroom but he didn't want to expose to her the fact that he was weak, the way he limped.

His wounds had been torn open again in the rash, idiotic moment where he decided to save that pathetic spider's life. They would've healed properly if Vash hadn't been dragging him around the desert so carelessly for so long. His twin had done a fair job at keeping the wounds cleaned but the constant shifting hadn't allowed them to heal properly. The fact that Vash hadn't allowed him to regenerate in a Plant had made it worse. He'd be marred with scars similar to those that Vash's body was deformed with.

"You didn't hurt yourself pushing me out of the way did you?" she asked.

The moment after Knives had saved her she had wondered about it briefly. The landing for them both had been hard. More-so him than her; she wasn't recovering from being shot.

"And if I had?" Knives didn't know where she was going. He didn't want her sympathy. He didn't want her to 'feel bad' for him. Even wounded he was still stronger and worth much more than her.

Sting frowned at the ice in his tone. "Forget it," she said, turning and leaving.

"Look, spider, don't get the wrong idea about what happened. It was a mistake and it'll _never_ be duplicated… next time it comes down to that you either save yourself or you die because I'm not going to be there to save you. Your kind is weak… there's no _point_ to saving a human."

She stared at him for a second before quickly stepping out of the room and closing the door behind her.

"What the hell's going on, Vash?"

The outlaw stood, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I'm not kidding with you, man," the woman hissed, glaring at him. "I was going to let Knives being the way he is slip by because I mean he's obviously been through some hard-ass times but most of the mentally-instable people I've met still think they're human at least."

Vash sighed. "We all have our own little horror stories to tell… you told me yours and I guess it's only fair that I tell you mine…"

()

Scar was elsewhere.

The tails of his long cloak brushed the dusty ground and people parted ways to make room for his passing.

He turned quickly down the alley between two large buildings and continued down it until he was out of sight from everyone on the streets.

"You've been following me for three blocks… when do you plan on striking?" he asked, eyes shifting upward to the rooftop of the building to his right.

A young man sat on the edge of the roof, one leg hanging carelessly down, arms folded around the other. He wore a flowing brown duster and a white mask to hide his face. A sleek rifle was held on a strap across his back and a revolver rested on his hip.

"Beautiful day isn't it?"

"Don't feed me that bullshit… what are you doing here?"

"You saw me this morning through the window didn't you? And you shoved her out of the way in the knick of time… I knew you would… I was hoping you would. Because I needed her possible danger to lure you out. Your welcome is worn out; Mason only kept you around because you had information important to him but now you're a liability and I've been hired to get rid of that liability."

"So I'm supposed to get killed by a coward who hides behind a mask?" Scar asked, scowling, "Mason apparently can't afford honorable thugs any more or what?"

"Watch it old man."

"No, you watch it, kid." The old man's rammed heavily into one wall of the alley, causing it to, surprisingly, cave inward under his weight and collapse.

He was out of there in a flourish of his black cloak, leaving his hunter behind for the moment.

"Vash! Where's Sting?"

The outlaw turned immediately toward the voice and saw Scar sprinting toward where he stood in the center of town. "I don't know," the Plant replied quickly, watching as the man sharply stopped and eyed him. "Why? What's wrong?"

"No time. Tell her that I'm sorry for everything," Scar said hurriedly, shaking his head, eyes rapidly shifting from side-to-side as if he were trying to see something not there.

"What? What's going on?" Vash asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

The man ignored the question as he turned slightly to his left, eyes focusing on the rooftops surrounding them. "You know… I'd run but there's no way I'd get away… why prolong the inevitable?" he said, laughing hoarsely. "Make sure she doesn't do anything stupid, Stampede."

"Wha-Scar!"

Vash's eyes widened as he realized what was coming a second too late.

Scar had just enough time to glance upwards before a gunshot cracked through the air and his body fell heavily to the ground at the Typhoon's feet; a sizeable entry wound blazing a path right through his heart

The outlaw looked quickly toward a building almost directly in front of where Scar had been standing. A man stood on the edge of the roof, lowering his rifle and looking triumphant, despite the fact that his face was hidden behind a white mask.

Vash, eyes narrowed, reached for his revolver but the sharp sound of another bullet firing stopped his finger on the trigger.

The assassin let out a scream before he lost balance as his body fell, crashing to the ground below. The panic that had started after Scar's bullet was stirred up again as the people, who had been shocked still, began to scatter for cover as well.

Sting stepped into view, a gun in hand, and her eyes met Vash's.

"_I'm sorry,_" he mouthed, crouching down beside Scar's body.

Sting's shoulders and head slumped and she fell to one knee, a hand rising to cover her face as tears began to burn in her eyes.

_Damn you,_ she thought, staring at the body below her but not seeing it, not focusing on the blood pooling around it. "Damn you," she whispered.

A/N: Okay… that's not really a cliffhanger is it? Nah… I planned a really huge one but I decided not to. Anyways, PLEASE REVIEW!


End file.
